#I have all the vacuuming done i think ! just need to reorganize everything in my desk and the drawers beside my desk | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tundrainafrica · 3 years ago

Text

Title: How many colors can you see in the dark?

Summary:

"Darkness wasn’t pitch black. Darkness wasn’t nothing. It was a slew of shadows, lines and glimmers. It was a dark blue, a light blue in places and if she searched for it, a subtle shade of green.

Eyes were just constantly looking for something to see."

After the war, Hange and Levi start living together and Hangs notices something might be a little off about Levi.

Link: AO3

Note:

I know this is two weeks late but...happy birthday Shaila! Based on the prompt you sent ;)

Levi had always approached housemaking like it was a delicate art, a dance to master

Or maybe it was something he had mastered already.

Despite his small stature and his generally aloof demeanor, he navigated the kitchen with silent confidence, running his hands over each task quickly, efficiently and more notably, elegantly.

Elegant enough to catch Hange’s busy eyes for at least a few minutes a day.

Turning something as mundane as managing a house into an art was an admirable skill that Hange learned over the years, could never be replicated without the natural proclivity. And as long as it was Levi was involved, Hange seemed to be completely capable of giving her full attention.

And before she even realized it herself, she had mastered the subtle art of just observing.

She mastered it so well that when inconsistencies started to appear, Hange spotted them almost immediately.

There was a plate that Levi had settled on the counter with a louder than usual clatter and that was enough to ring alarm bells inside her. Then when the angry clatters, the awkward rhythm as Levi reorganized utensils became commonplace, Hange found herself watching every move more closely then listening even when she had know idea what she was searching for in the first place.

She surreptitiously kept her guard up, she followed his movements. She snuck glances when she was sure Levi wasn’t looking. Over time, acts as mundane as turning on the stove had Hange looking up, ears perked up, interest piqued.

Maybe she was just a little nervous that Levi might burn himself.

Levi knew the stove from the back of his hand, he knew everything inside and out from the vacuum cleaners, to the dishwashers, to the mops. She had never needed to be nervous before.

But the clicking of the stove as he turned the knob was just a tad slow. The plates continued to clatter instead of settling softly on the counter.

And when Hange observed the way he set the table, she couldn’t help but notice, the spoon was just a little closer to the plate than the spoon.

Something, a fastidious Levi would have never allowed.

It could have been the long observations, or just the broken dish that had started it all. It could have been Levi’s careful movements or Hange’s penchant for overthinking. For a while, she had even blamed herself for being overly zealous about how the house should be run.

Then understanding came out of nowhere one morning, as an abrupt yet taut curse from just a few feet away.

Fuck.

Hange’s reaction was almost immediate. “Levi? You okay?”

He wasn’t okay. Hange had stood up instinctively at the sound, her eyes following Levi’s hands. The latter had dropped the peeler onto the kitchen counter with a louder clack than usual.

“Let me take a look,” Hange said. Her pace quickened as she made more sense of the situation.

Out of instinct, Levi held his hand close to him, another clumsy mistake, considering the red streaks that pooled out of that tiny knick that started to leak into the white shirt underneath. “Fucking hell,” Levi let out another curse, that time as a hushed whisper. He pulled away even before Hange could get close.

“Let me take a look,” Hange repeated, that time more firmly. Instinctively her eyes narrowed, her brow furrowed.

Somehow, that combination of everything had been enough to have Levi just a little more obedient.

He didn’t pull away further. But he didn’t make it any easier either.

It was Hange who carefully unwrapped his fingers, exposing the raw skin underneath. She ran her hand over it as gently as she could, but still not gentle enough to prevent a soft, hesitant and begrudging whimper.

“I’ll get the bandages,” Hange turned towards the cupboard, pulling out the materials one by one.

The process of bandaging was slow and the air between the two remained unbearably silent. Hange had more than enough thinking space to notice it then, when it was right at her fingertips.

Levi’s hands have always been rough, they have always been crusty to the touch. But something seemed a little different about the scrapes, the raw red that seemed to climb up his wrists, settling in his palms.

Levi had always been careful, he’d never been clumsy, let alone accident prone.

But his hands seemed to tell a different story. Hange ran her hands over his palms as she worked, ignoring the winces, the way he tensed up at each slight touch.

Then she started to ignore the passage of time, only painfully aware of the questions, then the ardent curiosity that seemed to manifest as some heavy weight in the silent kitchen.

She had to let it out somehow, or risk having that weight crush her.

Are you okay? Even if she did ask that, would Levi ever respond with a straight answer? Her own experience with him said no.

She took a deep breath. “Levi…” Hange started, hands running through the bruising once again. “Did you fall somewhere?”

***

Levi never answered that question. And any attempt at pushing and prodding after that, came up empty.

He was quiet, and it turned out, keeping mum could have been as much of his talent as being careful. He could ignore Hange if he tried and he would mumble something to himself, and walk away.

He always found a way to feign or at the most even force himself into a state of deep concentration, enough to even convince Hange to leave her questions for another day.

Hange was never one to stay quiet forever. And the universe was only tempting Hange to push the issue.

Suddenly everything was a catalyst.

The broken plate was the first catalyst. Then accidents seemed to pop up more frequently, an awkward clatter worse than an awkward clatter or a broken rhythmThere were rhythm. There were broken platess, a bleeding cutss and crushed fruits. Strange accidents had become a common sight.

I’m fine. Levi had said the first time she asked.

Hange gave it a week. One week became two weeks when Levi insisted that he was fine.

Two weeks became three when Levi insisted he was just tired.

One month in, Hange’s own habits of observation have graduated to levels of almost accurate predictions.

Hange didn’t notice it for herself immediately. In fact, she noticed it in slow motion, in the way she tensed up as she started to make sense of her observations.

They were in the moment Levi’s eyes twitched, the split second long blink, and the way his hand hovered over the plate, the way his hands gripped for something so tightly Hange could have sworn he had to have been gripping something.

Something a little more tangible than air.

Hange didn’t have to squint or furrow her brows to see that nothing had been between his two finger tips. Yet, for a second, Levi still held the air in between them like it was a lifeline.

When Hange looked up, narrowing her eyes at Levi’s, she noted the flash of confusion. As quickly as he pulled back, it melted away to something more subtle.

That dumbfounded expression didn’t fall away for any longer. It stayed long enough for Hange to see everything about the way Levi had blinked rapidly for a few seconds longer, the awkward way he stepped back then the way he gripped the counter as he bent down to grab the plate.

He didn’t go quickly for the broken plate, he started to feel the ground and Hange was sure she could have been much quicker. She rushed next to him.

Levi had a headstart but despite that, Hange was moving alarmingly faster. “Levi… I’ll handle this,” Hange said, noting the awkward and aimless movements of his hands.

Levi didn’t even protest but something inside Hange had wished he did. He pulled back, reached above him for some support from the counter.

When Hange focused on the obvious signs, she was quick to conclud, Levi had never been that slow.

He had never approached cleaning with such painful hesitation.

The first time, Hange did stomach it but she never really was the type to sit back and observe. She always observed but after observing, Hange would act in the most logical, calculated manner.

“We’re going to the doctor.” Hange brought it up out over an uncharacteristic silence.

“No.”

That brusque response had Hange jumping in her seat. When Hange thought about it for a second longer, after ‘I’m fines,” and “I’m just tired,” a firm ‘no’ seemed almost ominous.

Levi wasn’t making things any better with the rash way at which he stood up, then teetered, his eyes hovering wildly over the table. He blinked hard, then he widened his eyes in some look of confusion or surprise.

When Hange bent over to look into it, he looked away. “I’m fine.”

“You know I can help with the laundry right? Or cooking.”

“Why do you wanna help so suddenly? Don’t you have work to do?”

“I do,” Hange admitted. “But even if you’ve always wanted to do it yourself... I thought I wanna help with house chores more.”

“That’s new,” Levi glanced at her accusingly.

Glanced. That’s what it should have been

Hange squinted, then her eyes scanned over his expression while aiming to recall every other moment he had made eye contact before.

Levi wasn’t glancing. His eyes could have been staring at nothing. Either that, or he could have been staring at something which Hange couldn’t see.

There was a blunt grey in his sharp blue eyes and before Hange even felt the damp tension in the room, the way it weighed on her lips, forced her jaw back, she took one deep breath. “Are you sure you’ll be okay? Doing everything on your own?”

“I’ve always done everything on my own,” Levi said. He pulled his chair back then walked slowly away.

He didn't finish his breakfast that day.

***

It was like a switch just turned on inside Hange.

The stronger the indignance, the more motivated Hange became. Soon, even the small things back home were pulling out the researcher from inside her.

Despite her chaotic personality, Hange always seemed to put some systematic process into something as complex as solving a problem and subsequently, getting into the bottom of someone as stoic as Levi Ackerman.

Define the problem.

Levi was just a little too clumsy.

Form a hypothesis.

That part was a little more complex. With a little more observation, a little more analysis, she noticed the small details.

The small details weren’t in Levi, in fact they were in the little changes in his surroundings. The spices and the groceries have always been arranged neatly but when Hange observed Levi’s movements, she noticed, he liked to hover his hand over everything before allowing it to land, on top of one cap, then he would grip the one right next to it.

The salt shaker was just a little smaller than the pepper shaker just an inch away. When Levi was done with the salt he put it in its usual spot.

In the exact same place.

Levi was meticulous. He always did it that way. But there was something unsettling about the way he gripped it hard before letting go, before hovering his hand over the jar right next to it.

“Here,” Levi said, dropping the plate gently on the counter.

Scrambled eggs with salt.

“Thank you,” Hange said as she pulled it towards herself. Most days, she had a book next to her, or a few documents to review before she left for the office. That day in particular, the documents were just for show. She watched carefully as he cleaned up, as he positioned the bowl right next to the plates, and when he set it, he let his hand hover, he let it gently fly over the other utensils.

As if he was memorizing where everything was.

But Hange couldn’t be too sure. She needed to experiment.

There was only one window to move and that was when Levi was in the shower.

So Hange called the office, mentioning something to Armin about being late, and about an urgent health concern.

She never called days off so Armin didn’t pry.

She opened the salt shaker and poured the contents into a bowl. She opened the pepper shaker and poured the contents inside. A few hand motions later, the salt was where it wasn’t supposed to be and the pepper wasn’t where it was supposed to be.

Then Hange lined them up. She could never be too sure if that was the exact sample place but it was worth a try.

The next morning, the experiment turned out to be very much worth it when Hange was served an omelette sprinkled with a little too much of something else on top.

“Levi, I asked for salt in the omelette right?”

“You always ask for salt,” Levi answered matter-of-factly as he picked at his own breakfast. “Is anything wrong?”

“Nothing… I just thought you put in a little too much.” Hange made a loud show of pushing the plate in front of him and it looked like Levi had been ready to make a show of something too.

He narrowed his eyes on the plate then nodded. “Sorry, I’ll put less salt next time,” he muttered, only proving himself what Hange already suspected.

“It’s fine, put as much salt as you want,” Hange didn’t even notice herself, not until she pulled the plate back towards her that her voice had deadened to smatterings of sound. She sliced the omellete into smaller places, mixing the black pepper with the gooey yellow just underneath then wondering for a second how Levi managed to so cleanly crack the eggs even when he could barely tell the difference between white and black.

The only way to ever find out is to ask. But there were more pressing things to ask at that moment.

Levi, are you blind? If Hange just went with her first instinct, maybe that’s what she would have asked.

This is pepper. That had been her second choice but with such a fragile moment right between them, that was no time for proving her own conjecture correct.

She went for an in between, a curious in between and she decided, it was up to Levi to take it for what he sees the question to be. “Levi? How much can you see right now?”

“I can see just fine,” Levi answered, once again straightforward and firm.

At that moment, he met her gaze with blank eyes, or at least, he attempted to meet her gaze. The moment Hange avoided his eyes, he didn’t follow.

She started to make sense of everything at once.

The strong denial, the lack of confusion, her omelette with a little too much pepper instead of salt and one strong inference later, Hange started on a new endeavor--- convincing Levi to see a doctor.

***

The disease wasn’t anything new and Hange was confident, she could have pronounced it and memorized it if she had put her heart into studying it.

As Levi put it, there were more pressing things to study than the sudden onset of failing eyesight. The doctors at least had been nice enough to put a prognosis on it.

The rules were simple, old people usually got it, Levi had just been terribly unlucky he experienced it decades earlier. It wasn’t common but it wasn’t unheard of either, even in the small island of Eldia. If Hange requested the documentation from Marley, if she made a quick visit to Marley, maybe she would have figured it out for herself.

Levi had shot down that idea though before Hange could have entertained it any further.

Even in the silence, in the bedroom, at two in the morning, even when Hange had so carefully padded towards the desk, Levi had seemed to have sensed it.

His voice rough, his eyes half open, he spoke up seemingly from out of nowhere. “No need.”

Whatever had hinted him to it seemed to have work, maybe even if it was just Hange’s own tense demeanor which she couldn’t so easily brush away.

In fact, Hange had been thinking about it. She had a half written letter for a leave to go to Marley. She had papers on whatever the doctors had even documented about the failing eyesight of elders, all scattered across the table.

But fading eyesight of elders was something not many people endeavored to cure. Levi's case was just too rare, and there were no other studies which made it worth white.

It was as if Levi had known that too.. “Hange, go back to sleep.”

He had chosen a convenient moment to say it. That exact moment where Hange had ran her eyes over the last few paragraphs of one of the files from the library.

No known cure.

“I’m reading something.” Hange disturbed the papers enough to release some loud rustle in the room.

“You wanna read it to me?” Levi asked. That was the first time he had ever asked her to read anything to him.

To Hange’s surprised, it sent some painful pang through her chest that seemed to settle in her stomach.

Suddenly, she was in no mood to read again.

“Actually, you’re right. I think this can wait until morning.”

***

Hange’s work in the office started to die down just a bit, and suddenly her mind was everywhere.

She allowed herself to ponder what the hell Levi was busying himself with while she was away. Did he get bored? More importantly, was he safe?

And a few times she did call home, only to get some form of ‘go back to work’ in a more and more annoyed tone with every call. The few times she stopped herself from calling, she busied herself with something else.

Piles and piles of paperwork, some of them were actual work and some of them were something that Hange would have classified as personal, hidden amongst a small pile of papers slightly obscured by the one Jean had left a while back.

Luckily, no one really asked Hange to clean up. No one among her subordinates seemed to have even made sense of the pile of paperwork and that was one thing Hange took advantage of.

After one call with Levi, where the latter had put down the phone a little too roughly, Hange quickly went through one of the letters she had written only that morning, to another doctor she had heard about through her network.

The few doctors in Eldia had deemed it incurable but Hange still managed to grip on to whatever hope came with a second opinion. The few researchers that had come back bore bad news but Hange was unfazed, there were still many other doctors, some in Marley, some in the Middle East, some in Hizuru.

Others had come back with nothing but affirmation that whatever research that had reached Eldia were the latest.

But Hange wasn’t giving up just yet. There were a few more she hadn’t sent yet.

She bent over, chin leaning on one hand. She knew the best way to write a letter and if she just let loose, she was confident she could make it sound as professional as the many other letters she had written before.

Somehow, the nth letter was harder. Somehow, writing that same letter when she had received too many rejections already was harder.

Was it worth it to still try? Hange took a deep breath, pressed the pen to paper and wrote out the first few words. It was like a script, when Hange gave into self discipline and to the mechanisms that kept working the past few years, she found it was easy enough to stay productive and efficient.

Doctor Wilken,

I hope you’re doing well.

My name is Hange Zoe from Paradis. I’m writing to you to inquire about a case…

Hange had gone halfway through, before the door to her office creaked open. The sound echoed, breaking whatever trance she didn’t even know she had been in and Hange jumped her seat.

“Did I scare you?” Armin asked, another wad of documents held close to his chest.

Hange eyed the documents and instinctively patted the empty space to the side of her desk. “Leave it on my desk.”

“This can wait until tomorrow.” Armin dropped the documents on the side and looked up at her expectantly.

“If it’s urgent, I could get started tonight,” Hange offered.

“The grocery closes at seven,” Armin volunteered.

At that point, she had been painfully aware that a lot may have changed about her work habits. How long had she been writing letters back and forth. More importantly, how long had she been frequenting the grocery on the way home?

Since the doctors had given her Levi’s diagnosis? Hell, maybe even before that.

“You notice I’ve been going to the market more often?” Hange said.

“Connie noticed it first. Then Mikasa,” Armin explained. He put his hands up in defense. “We weren’t stalking you or anything, but we used to see Levi in the market more… and when we started seeing you there, we got curious.”

Hange forced a smile. “I just thought I should pull my weight at home. I think I’ve been spending too much time working. Not too much time helping out.”

“Levi isn’t the type to get lonely though and I’m sure he does enjoy cleaning,” Armin said.

“He sure does,” Hange said. She kept whatever tone to herself, instead feigning some preoccupation as she shuffled mindlessly through the papers. “Still, we’re living together and taking care of the house is a team job.”

Armin nodded. “You know, you don’t have to work overtime anymore. Jean, Mikasa and I… The queen… Connie… we can handle most of the work. You should spend more time at home--- I don’t even think you ever got rest as commander.”

Hange sighed. “I’m gonna have to think about that. There is a lot I feel like I haven’t done yet. Gimme some time to think about that.”

“If you need anything else, just let me know,” Armin said. He bowed lightly and walked quietly out the room, leaving Hange to ponder that offer.

There were things she hadn’t done. There was a lot of work she still had to deal with but she didn't need the time to consider them.

It was an easy decision to make.

Soon enough Hange had stopped working overtime and she had started to spend a little more time cracking open books and reports from each doctor and writing letters in between.

Surprisingly, she didn’t feel at all guilty about shortening work hours.

***

The door of their home opened up to the living room and just behind it was the kitchen.

By evening Hange would find Levi either working at the kitchen, sitting at the dining table or lounging by the sofa.

On the rare days that he wasn’t, he could be in the laundry room.

That was her first thought.

There was something about the eerie silence though that had Hange walking ahead more quickly.

“Levi?” she called out.

There was no reply. The beating of her heart only turned wilder. Hange dropped her bag by the sofa and raced towards the laundry room, just beyond that, was the bedroom.

She didn’t have to go any further though. Levi was slumped on the wall of the living room. A pile of clothes lay toppled over and scattered on the floor right next to him.

“Hange…” It wasn’t a question. Maybe more of a statement. But to Hange it had just been a lifeless name and the blank expression on Levi’s face wasn’t helping it either.

“Hey, I’m here.” Hange bent over and started to pick up the clothes, resting them on one hand.

“Did they get dirty?” Levi pulled at one of the sweaters then held it close to himself.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll put them back in the closet.”

“No, but I need to know, do I need to wash them again.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not as much of a clean freak as you are,” Hange folded the clothes once again and piled them all in. Levi had done his part but Hange couldn’t help but note, in the span of her folding ten, Levi had only folded two.

His was still neater and most likely, if Hange hadn’t caught him, if that accident--- whatever that had been--- that left him slumped on the wall, didn’t happen. He still would have managed to fold everything.

She carried the laundry basket with one arm and lumbered over to their bedroom. Listening closely, she made out the hesitant and clumsy steps of her partner right behind.

“Levi, what happened?” she asked.

“I fell over, the basket fell over, I hit my head on the wall.” He kept his voice soft, his answers straightforward.

“I’ll get some ice. Just lay in bed,” Hange ordered.

That accident must have hurt. For once, Levi was completely obedient, not even attempting to reorganize the clothes on the basket and putting it inside the closet. He didn’t even answer, or crane his neck when Hange entered the room.

She dropped the ice pack on his outstretched palm, guiding his fingers to the top, where it was easiest to hold. “In the morning, if it still hurts, you have to tell me. We’re going to have to take you to the doctor.”

Levi had experienced worse. Explosions, man eating monsters and war. Regardless, just a strong smack to the right part of the head was enough to kill. Hange had worked long enough with army medics to know.

He gripped the ice pack only lightly and once again, Hange was tempted to run her fingers over his and grip his hands guiding them over it. It wasn’t a physical issue. Levi was still strong, she was sure of that.

Still, Levi was stronger than that, he always had been. Hell, he was dubbed humanity’s strongest for a reason.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked.

“No. I’m not,” Levi admitted.

“We should see a doctor tomorrow then?”

Levi turned to his side, his front to the window. “It’s not that. It doesn’t hurt that bad.”

“But something else hurts right? Something you can’t explain?” Hange suggested.

Levi didn’t respond after that and Hange didn’t prod further. She started to reorganize the clothes one on top of the other, noting then how Levi had managed to fold them neatly into piles.

Hers and his, divided like they’ve always been. Staring for longer than usual, not having to consider the day in front or any other things, she started to note that there was a slight difference.

There were small stains on the white, some white on the red and just colors where she didn’t remember having them been before. “Levi, maybe we should get two hampers, a light and a dark one? So you don’t mix them up?” Hange suggested.

Silence.

Hange turned back to the hamper, the clothes still untouched, clumsily folded on top of one another. She brought it back to the bed and held Levi’s left hand towards her.

“You want me to teach you how to tell the lights from the darks?” Hange asked.

Levi had been holding the ice pack to his head for the past few seconds and he turned to Hange, eyes half open.

“Sit up.” She pulled lightly at Levi and it turned out, she didn’t have to pull for long. That order was enough to get him to a sitting position.

“I’ll teach you the lights from the darks,” Hange said. She pulled out one of Levi’s sweaters, a pure white with a few colored spots from washings. “This one is your white sweater…” She started. She guided Levi’s fingers through it, pressing his fingers closer on the areas where the threads bunched together, making up some intricate design.

As she guided his fingers through, as she felt his fingers pinch at it, she started to notice it herself. The seams, the hems, the collar, they all gave the sweater a unique character, and the color was starting to seem almost negligible.

“I can still tell the whites from the darks,” Levi said.

“How much can you see?”

Levi nodded and gave her a wry smile, the first in a long time. “Just enough to pick up some colors.”

“I think you may have mixed some of the lights and darks together. ,” Hange said.

Levi seemed deep in thought for a second. “It’s dim in the laundry room. When it’s darker, I can’t see as much, maybe that’s it,” he explained. He pinched at the hems as he spoke, running his hand quickly over it, as if trying to distract himself. “I just have to do better at figuring it out.”

“But now...” Hange said. “If you can’t tell the whites from the darks…”

“I can. It’s just harder to tell at times.” Levi hummed. “Let me try to explain it… When in a room, I don’t see anything. But in a well lit room, like now…” He paused for a second longer.

Hange was starting to get impatient. “Like now?”

Levi fell back on the bed and stared up ahead at the ceiling. “Hange, tell me, how many colors can you see in the dark?”

***

She did the laundry again that night, particularly for the more dirtied bundle.

In the dim laundry room, she closed her eyes for a moment, just for long enough to understand it herself. Her eyes would naturally search for light and in the darkness, they still seem to find it.Yet, Hange was sure that that was the closest thing she could get to total darkness.

Once she finished, she retired to the bedroom, turned on the lights of the room once again. Unlike before, it did nothing to wake Levi or even have him stirring, half asleep. His own condition had actually made him a better sleeper over time.

Hange put whatever dried up clothes back in the closet and just to answer the burning question for herself, she didn’t turn off the lights. She fell back on the bed, just like Levi had done hours ago. She closed her eyes tightly and the lights above stayed within range for just a second longer and the longer Hange made sense of herself, the clearer it started to become.

Darkness wasn’t pitch black. Darkness wasn’t nothing. It was a slew of shadows, lines and glimmers. It was a dark blue, a light blue in places and if she searched for it, a subtle shade of green.

Eyes were just constantly looking for something to see.

How many colors can you see in the dark? The darkness was endless and Hange was sure, if she looked hard enough, she may even see every shade in the spectrum.

That should be the same for Levi right? Hange thought to herself. She turned to a sleeping Levi, tracing the lines under his eyes, the tense jaw and when she stared for a little too long, she was cruelly reminded, the difference was right there.

She could open her eyes when she grew tired from searching for colors. Levi couldn’t.

An attempt at an awkward apology, Hange turned towards Levi, pulled herself closer, pressed her forehead on his, found rhythm in his breathing, picked out the moment the rhythm broke. Then there was a light brush on her cheeks, light yet ticklish enough for Hange to just ponder for a second how long Levi’s eyelashes really were.

She let out that laugh that tickled at her throat and she pressed her lips against his.

“You can stop now. I’m awake,” Levi’s lips pulled up into a smile. “Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing,” Hange answered almost instinctively.

“You never laugh at nothing.”

Hange sighed then she turned on her back. “I was just thinking about something.”

“About…”

“You know, there are things the eyes can’t see right? But are still very much there?” As soon as it came out of her mouth, all to a dead response, Hange realized, it wasn’t funny at all.

It had never been funny. It was just a glimmer of hope and she just hadn’t felt a glimmer of hope in a while.

***

There were colors in total darkness. There were colors the eyes couldn’t see but they were colors that the ears, the nose, the tongue, the skin had no problems making.

Getting Levi acquainted with them was a daunting task.

It took weeks to get Levi familar with the hems of each sweater, the collars of his shirts and the areas were seams split wide enough to make a noticeable dent just between his fingers.

Soon enough, Hange realized, Levi didn’t need the dent, or he didn’t need the areas were the strings awkwardly bunched up together. Sometimes the areas were the threads lined up perfectly were enough of a hint.

How Levi could have figured it out, Hange could never tell but progress was still progress.

The work at the kitchen continued, the cleaning continued and most days, Hange could pretend it was just like before. If she avoided looking closely at how Levi’s hands hovered lightly over surfaces, how he pressed his hand against the wall before he made a turn, she could pretend he was just slightly clumsier than usual.

And most days it did work. Levi was always improving, getting used to whatever view he had every morning. Sometimes, she could even pretend he wasn’t struggling at all.

A ripple in whatever progress they set for themselves came as a knock on the door and a surprise visit.

It was a lazy Saturday morning, Hange was lounging on the couch, Levi was preparing lunch when they first knocked on the door.

“Is this a bad time?” Armin asked.

It wasn’t and Hange didn’t think it ever would be. The cadets always had a special place in her heart. She didn’t need too much to reassure Armin. She let the wide smile play at her lips, she then let her head cock to the side.

“You wanna stay for lunch?” Hange asked. She turned to Levi who was looking up at them too, his eyes wide with surprise.

“We can make a little more,” Levi volunteered.

Armin shook his head. “No thank you. Mikasa and I will be visiting Eren’s grava after this. We just wanted to drop some things over.” He dropped the plastic bag on the coffee table and turned to Levi. “It’s been a while. We don’t see you go out as much anymore.”

“Hange offered to help with groceries so there’s no need to,” Levi explained, his expression completely deadpan, enough of a reminder for Hange that they never did tell anyone about.

“I noticed you’ve been sending a lot of mail… to doctors I think? And I saw you’ve been reading a lot of medical books so when these were sent over to the office, I thought you’d want them as soon as possible. They arrived at the office this morning.”

“From where?”

“It was sent with a letter apparently, from the medical society of Marley,” Armin explained.

“Yeah, I requested that.” Hange settled on the sofa and ran her hands through the package. The medical society of Marley was one of the most technologically advanced yet somehow, had been the most difficult to contact.

She unwrapped the packaging to find books. A quick look at the cover and Hange found they were case studies. She ran her eyes over the cover, then quickly through the pages. She took a deep breath.

Nothing at all about a cure, yet many pages about management, symptoms and cases. Then she ran her hand over the letter. She ripped the envelope open and unfolded the letter with one flick.

Hange had always been a quick reader but she only needed one second to realize, she didn’t need to read the rest of the letter.

Her eyes had only been searching for one word, cure.

No cure. That was the only answer she found..

“You okay?” MIkasa asked. Suddenly, she was right next to Hange.

Hange only needed to feel the hand on her shoulder and to see the surprised look on MIkasa’s face to accept it as truth. She was trembling, she was shaken. And for just a moment, Hange was feeling hopeless.

“I’m fine. Just a bit disappointed with the research I was doing.” “If I may ask… what research?” Armin asked hesitantly.

Hange managed a shrug and an almost uninvested expression. “Something about being able to see colors in the dark.”

And it looked like that had been enough. Mikasa and Armin didn’t prod more deeply than that.

Apparently, the disease would progress. Maybe over months, maybe over years but eventually, the subject would become completely blind.

The literature called him a subject but the word subject had always felt cold and calculating. Hange didn’t like the word patient either. He was Levi and he would always be Levi.

Tired of the negativity, the coldness, Hange put away the books, somewhere where even Levi wouldn’t find it to somewhere even she would need a chair to reach.

To hell with it, she wouldn’t be missing it for a long time. She was in a new stage of the process, the grieving process, the denial process, the acceptance process, one of those.

Either way, one thing was sure, it still fucking hurt like a bitch. And in her own way, she knew she had to find a way to shake it off. She opened the door then before leaving she let out a final greeting. “Just going out for a bit!” She said loud enough that Levi should hear.

And she slammed the door behind her. To clear her head, Hange went out to the streets and made the calming journey around the block.

They lived in a quiet residential area within what used to be walled Sinna, conducive for walks any time of the day. And Hange had learned over the years, keeping to some steady rhythm when she walked, keeping her breaths relaxed, she could easily take back whatever control she had lost.

Hange then tried another trick.

The end of the block led down to a downward slope and right in front of her was blue sky, framed by buildings on both sides. Out of instinct, or maybe just out of a burning curiosity Hange hadn’t tapped into yet, she closed her eyes.

Blue. Her view behind closed eyes was a light blond for just a split second.

Light blue but it never turned a dark blue. Then she started to search for contours between the light and the dark, then shapes, some of the perfectly geometric, other almost incomprehensible blobs.

Then Hange took a deep breath. The early autumn air around her seemed to tickle at her nostrils, the rustle of the leaves seemed to brush at her ears. Her lips were dry and they tasted a little bit like metal.

“Excuse me.” Of all things, it had been a passerby just behind her who had pulled her out of her trance.

“Sorry about that,” Hange responded almost instinctively. She moved to the side of the sidewalk, stood by and watched.

And having just fallen out of the last trance, suddenly Hange was finding anything to focus on. “What’s that big bag?” Hange asked, biting her lip soon after. Who the hell asks that out of nowhere?

“It’s a guitar,” the stranger asked matter-of-factly. If she had been at least a little offended by Hange, she didn’t show it.

In fact, the conversation seemed to flow a little more easily after that. It turned out there was a shop only a few minutes away, long enough for that instrument to draw Hange in.

She was out for an hour longer than she had expected. That one hour though was long enough to pick out a guitar, pick out some easy sheet music and guidebooks.

Hange came home late that evening but with two hands full with impulse purchases, brimming with newfound excitement.

***

Even in the deepest blackness, there were colors that shone clearly.

You just have to look for it. Hange whispered to herself, an attempt at self motivation.

One bout of serendipity and Hange found a new way to pass the time, that same time she had used up messaging every researcher and eye doctor in the international network.

In the evenings, she was reading tabs and sometimes, she was trying out the different chords, allowing her fingers to slowly get used to the soft nylon of the guitar, and the riffs which were unnatural to the touch.

One week into it, she was making music but admittedly, she was a little sloppy. A day or so after that, Hange decided to pick the sound for herself when she closed her eyes.

When she graduated from awkwardly pressing riffs and hearing unnecessary splats as she strummed, she opened up the lyrics.

And she only had to sing it once to feel the almost consoling burn in her throat, the rush in her cheeks and just her chest full, brimming with some cross between excitement and relief.

Eyes closed, hands moving, she seemed to see more colors, some colors she swore she had never seen before.

“Hey, can you sing that song?”

“Which song?”

“The one you sing on the balcony.”

Hange let out that wry smile. She looked away in instinct as she felt the blood rush up her cheeks, only reminded a second later, Levi wouldn’t have seen it. “You can hear it? I could have sworn I closed the door.”

“I still heard you, perfectly clear,” Levi retorted.

Hange cocked her head to the side, suddenly feeling like a five year old stealing from a cookie jar. Then she wondered, why the hell she had been hiding it in the first place. In her decades of managing squads and armies, somehow, she wondered how she made a mistake out of a stupid yet simple decision.

“I wanted it to be perfect before I let you listen,” Hange admitted. “But now that I think about it, maybe you would have enjoyed the process… of me learning?”

“I wouldn’t know if you don’t let me listen.”

Levi rarely made eye contact with Hange those days. There was no reason too when there was nothing to connect with. At that moment, he seemed to have deliberately met her gaze with his own unseeing one, an expectant look on his face.

Even before Levi had voiced the request, Hange was sure, she could never say no. She padded to one end of the room, taking the guitar hanging that sat on one of the shelves, and pulled it close to her.

“It’s an easy song,” Hange warned.

“Music is still music,” Levi said. “Besides, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sing.”

Hange played the opening chords, slowing down just a bit as she felt the bed shake, then a warm body pressed on her back. Levi had lain on the bed, pressed his forehead to her back, or that was the quickest guess she could make as she concentrated on coordinating her still very amateur fingers.

The opening chorus passed peacefully. To Hange, that was enough of an achievement.

“What’s the song?” Levi asked.

“Ir’s called ‘You are my sunshine.’ There was someone who met me at the music store and she recommended that since it’s easy to learn. Is it too mushy for you?” Hange asked, stifling a nervous laugh.

“It sounds just fine to me,” Levi said.

Hange saw that as a cue to continue. She strummed again, opening with a few chords then the first verse.

Even laying on the bed, seemingly unmoving, Hange seemed to sense investment, attentiveness from Levi. Maybe Levi was just waiting for his own chance to speak.

“Please don’t take my sunshine away,” Levi let it out as a whisper but Hange couldn’t help but pick out the remnants of a melody that seemed to die at his throat.

“Maybe if we sing that line enough times, it might just work.” A shoddy attempt to lighten the mood. It was only after the second verse did Hange realize how depressing the song actually had been. She turned to Levi, an apologetic smile on her face.

“I still see the sun you know,” Levi said. When you open the windows in the morning, or the curtains, I still see the white, sometimes I see yellow. When the sun rises, I still know that it’s morning.” Levi was surprisingly talkative or Hange suspected, there was something about how she was carrying herself that Levi could have sensed from his place in bed.

Hange pushed the guitar right under the bed, and lay in bed next to him. “You told me before, you still see other colors. But it still hurts right?”

“It does,” Levi admitted.

“Then you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t. What I wanna do is I wanna try to enjoy whatever is still there,” Hange reached her hand just a little to her left, close enough to just grip at his fingertips. “But i won’t be able to help, if you don’t tell me what you want to work on.”

Levi hummed for a second. “Work on your guitar skills.”

“I don’t need that reminder. What else?”

“Just help around the house more I guess…” Levi’s voice lacked fervor and Hange wasn’t at all convinced.

“You can think harder than that,” Hange responded firmly.

Levi didn’t respond immediately. And maybe the silence between them had worked to rack Levi’s brain. His answer was unexpected, simple but it seemed to make sense. “I want you to describe things to me.”

“Things?”

“How our house looks like, how the outside looks like every season, how you look like.” Levi answered. “One day,I’m going to forget how everything looks like, the colors, the trees, our house.... What if I told you, I’m scared of forgetting how you look like?”

It was easy enough to give. “I’m still here. I’ll look in the mirror and I’ll tell you how I look like,” Hange said. She stood up, walked towards the mirror next to her desk, making out whatever she could under the dim moonlight. “Big nose, always chapped lips, messy brown hair, small eyes.”

“Did you know, your eyes are bigger without your glasses.”

Instinctively, Hange pulled out her glasses, only to be greeted by whatever blur she had become in the mirror. “I can’t see it now.” But she was a quick thinker. Hange pressed her fingers to her good eye, tracing her eyelids then her bags underneath.

It took a little more than a few seconds to thread through them carefully and she could never tell if they really were big without comparing them to anyone else.

It wasn’t about what she saw though, it was about what Levi wanted to see.

She walked back to the bed, holding Levi’s hand between her finger and she pressed his good hand to her eyelids. “Will this let you remember?” She only had to guide his hands through her eyelids before he took the reigns. His hands travelled lightly over her lashes, then to the bags underneath, resting heavily and long enough for Hange to feel the pressure to her bones.

The hands fell to her large nose, then as if falling over a cliff, they fell almost quickly over her lips. Suddenly, Hange was self conscious of how dry they were.

“You should lick your lips more,” Levi whispered.

Hange couldn’t even find the right moment to let her tongue out and lick them. Levi’s fingers stayed for a second longer on her lips, heavily enough that it was difficult to even mouth words in between.

Still, she attempted. “Have your lips always been dry?” She pressed her own fingers to his lips,

“You’ve kissed them before right?”

She saw that as some cue to draw nearer and maybe it was. Levi didn’t turn away or pull away. Instead, he did his part and their lips locked.

Levi’s lips weren’t dry. And Hange wondered how many times they had kissed, how many times they had even touched lips yet it had never been so much as even a passing thought.

Eyes closed, she felt it, she tasted it then she relished the in betweens. In complete darkness, there were still colors to expereince, colors to see. It was just a matter of finding it.

Levi’s hands fell forward, landing on her neck, then down to the collar of her shirt.

She didn’t want it to end there. Hange held his hand just an inch away from her, before guiding it down towards the buttons of her polo and Levi got the message.

He held both hands a hairs breadth away from the buttons of her shirt, then pressed at them slowly one by one. Despite not having any visual aids, he still had close to perfect coordination.

He then pulled at her undergarments, delicately and slowly and Hange did her part. She pulled at his own sweater, flinging it to the side of the room before falling next to him on the bed.

“Do you want me to describe anything for you?” Hange offered.

It was late at night, the room was dim save for the moonlight, there wouldn’t be much to talk about beyond their bodies half naked right next to each other. Still, if Levi asked, it would have been worth a try.

“No. I’ll figure it out for myself,” Levi said. Once again, his hands were pressed on her face, this time tracing her cheeks. They sat for a second on the cheeks just below her eyes, before falling onto her chin.

Somehow, by just the movements of his fingers, Hange could pick out a little of what he could have been seeing. Levi didn’t have to see it for her to feel it.

He had pressed his fingers over the apple on her cheeks then right down to the dimples underneath and even in the darkness, the circular movements seemed to goad whatever smile out of Hange.

“Are you done?” Hange asked, keeping her voice light, keeping the laugh in them very much apparent.

“How long will you give me?”

“Take as long as you need,” Hange said, The last thing she would have wanted would be for Levi to forget.

“How much will you let me do?”

“We’ll do what you want.”

Levi smirked. “You’re pretty generous tonight.”

“I have one condition.”

Levi raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“After this… after everything we do tonight, I want you to tell me about it. Tell me about everything you see in the dark.”

#levihan #levihan fanfiction

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collectivefandomstuff · 4 years ago

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Title: A Hindering Hand Type: Fanfic, crossposted to AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270097) Status: Complete. Chapter: 1/1. Fandom: DC/Batman Rating: T Warnings: Language. Beta: No beta we die like Jason Todd and also Damian Pairings: None. Word Count: 4k+ Genre: Humour/Comedy Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne. Summary: When Dick is refused the opportunity to coddle Damian, he decides to lavish his other siblings with his questionably helpful assistance. They are palpably ungrateful.

Excerpt: Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed him.

”You have got to be kidding me.”

Jason stared at what used to be his perfectly clean kitchen; now a hollowed out shell of its former self. Cabinet doors were thrown open, his carefully organised supplies haphazardly shuffled around. Every single counter and parts of the floor was covered in flour, cocoa, and something wet and heretofore unidentified. He didn’t even want to look closer at the stove or the sink, both filled with sticky, clearly misused, pots and pans. There was a smell hanging in the air, the same one that had set his inner alarm bells off when he entered the apartment: burnt sugar and something that smelled suspiciously like rotten fruit. Jason took a deep breath to stop himself from just whipping out his guns and shooting at the mess. It would be cathartic, but ultimately unhelpful. Instead, he fished his phone out of his front pocket and thumbed through his contacts.

He got through two rings before the line opened.

“He got you too?” Tim said on the other end. His tone reminded Jason of Bruce, which was usually a clear indication that Tim was fucking done.

“How can he be this useless?” Jason ground out.

“He was raised by Alfred.”

“So was I. And you.” “Fine. He was spoiled by Bruce.” “uh-huh,” Jason agreed, daring to move into his living room. Thankfully, the carnage hadn’t spread there, though there was an oven pan, placed strategically in the middle of his coffee table. The contains looked like what Jason imagined “dubious food” in Zelda looked like in real life. “I have to stop hanging out with you,” he told Tim. “Why?” “I just made a video game reference in my head.” “Which game?” “Not the point.” “I mean-” Tim began, but before he got any further into arguing why the specific game was “of import” to the discussion -fucking dweeb -Jason cut him off: “I’m going to kill him.” Tim was quiet for a moment. “What did he do exactly?” “Hi Little Wing,” Jason recited from the note that had been stuck underneath his brand new fucking oven pan Dick you bastard that was expensive. “I made you some brownies!” Jason stopped to look closer at the brown sludge that he was pretty sure was stuck to the bottom of his new pan. Martha herself recommended it, Dick goddammit. “I hope they turned out all right! Don’t work too much! D.” There was a pause. “Did they turn out all right?” asked Tim. “No,” Jason gritted his teeth, “No, they did not.” “He’s really on a spree this week.” “Yeah?” Jason muttered absently, poking at the sludge with his gloved finger. It jiggled. Somehow, that made everything so much worse. “Mm,” Tim said, and Jason could hear the tapping of computer keys in the background which meant that he had about 30% of Tim’s attention. “He hit Cass and Steph a few days ago. I guess since Cass is staying there when she’s in town he thought it was two for one. Tried to do their laundry.” “Why haven’t they killed him?” “They’re working on big drug bust. So, no time.” “Well I have time.” Jason groused, already trying to reorganize his plans for the evening. He would need at least three hours to repair the damage Dick had done to his kitchen. “Good,” Tim said, his voice cold, “because so do I.” Jason stopped trying to figure out how many new appliances he would need to buy to focus for a moment. “What did he do to you?” Tim was silent for a long while, then: “He tried to clean my apartment.” Jason shuddered. On one hand, he understood the compulsion. His replacement’s usual idea “clean” was “nothing hazardous is currently growing somewhere”. Still, the only thing worse than Dick trying to clean was Bruce trying to clean. Or cook. Or do laundry. Or vacuum. The Batman he may be, but Jason had never met a more incompetent homemaker in his life. Once, Bruce had tried to dust a little and they had to call the fire department. “And?” He prompted. “He moved everything,” Tim said, deceptively calm, “and threw out at least thirty-four irreplaceable things.” Oh shit. There was a reason why Jason stomped down the urge to clean Tim’s apartment. He once moved an old magazine when the younger boy wasn’t even there and the next day he got received three upset calls and a computer virus for his trouble. “He re-organised my desk. My cases. My clues.” Tim continued to rattle off. “And he didn’t even manage to clean properly. I’m pretty sure he tried to scrub my TV with vinegar.” Jason bit his lip to keep from laughing. Looks like Tim got it worse. “Shut up,” said Tim grouchily. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were laughing at me.” How- Jason’s hand clenched around the phone. “I told you to stop putting cameras in my apartment.” Tim snorted. “So find them and take them down. Think of it as practice,” he said, lilting the word “practice” in the same way Bruce usually did. “You’re such a creeper.” “Says the murderous crime lord.” “At least I’m not a stalker.” “Have you checked your bottom cabinets yet?” Jason stilled at the sudden change of subject. “Why?” “Looks like the re-organising urge lived on.” Oh, he had better fucking not. Jason stepped back into his kitchen and, with the care of someone opening a bomb case, edged open the door to his pots- and pans cabinet. He came face to face with his toaster, nestled between a pasta drainer and three boxes of cereal that he had not owned this morning. It was the sugary shit too. “Son of a-” “I think he put your spatulas in the fridge,” Tim said cheerily. Jason was going to wring his little neck. Right after he had stomped on Dick until the unbridled rage in his chest went away. “This is why I don’t want any contact with this family for-” “You know why he’s doing this right?” Tim queried lightly. Jason frowned. “I don’t keep track of the family gossip, pretender. I have better things to do with my time.” Tim made an offended noise at being called “pretender”. “Fine. Then why don’t you try to make him stop and call me when he’s tried to clean your guns?” Jason rolled his eyes. The dramatics, honestly. Bruce 2.0. “Why is he doing this, Tim?” He asked reluctantly. Tim sniffed. “Damian told Dick that he wasn’t needed at the moment, which was the little brat’s way of trying to get Dick to take some time to de-stress, but obviously Dick took this to mean that Damian has cast him aside and considers him a bad parental figure.” Jason spent a good few seconds rethinking the whole “moving back to Gotham” idea. He could just… leave and never talk to this insane family ever again. It was entirely doable. Just, one little call to Roy and hasta la vista you absolute nutjobs. He sighed. “So we have to talk to the demon child?” He asked tiredly. “Yeah pretty much.” “I still think my first plan was better.” “If you kill Dick, the family will never leave you alone.” That was a surprisingly good point. Dammit. “Can I punch him a little?” “I’d encourage it.” “Hey,” said Jason suspiciously, “just what are you planning to do him exactly?” “Honestly?” Tim replied. “I’m going to send a false tip to the department of Agriculture, fabricate evidence, and make them recall his favourite cereal.” Jesus fucking Christ this family was a pizza bagel of crazy with a sociopath topping.

It took them a while to track down Robin during patrol, and when they managed to find him they were met with immediate resistance. Which, taking into consideration who they were, wasn’t all that surprising. “Calm down.” Red Hood said placatingly while he jumped out of range from Robin’s swords. “We just wanted to talk to you about N-” He dodged a batarang that was clearly aimed at his throat. Add psychopath topping to that pizza bagel. “Would you knock it off,” Red Robin snarled, spinning out of the way when Robin spun to aim a kick at his stomach. Hood seized the opportunity and darted in to restrain the tiny beast that, let’s be real, was absolute proof that Bruce should not be allowed to procreate. Robin thrashed in his hold for a good three minutes before he finally settled down, glaring murderously at Red. “What do you want?” Robin spat. Even when Hood could feel him literally vibrating with supressed rage, he still kept perfect syntax. No abbreviations here. Little freak. “We need you to call N,” Red said. He looked a little ruffled and more than a little miffed. “I will do no such thing,” Robin sniffed. “Think again,” Hood said in his ear, letting his voice drop into a menacing tone. “Look,” Red Robin said. His hair was sticking up at the back after the struggle and he looked real fed up with this. Hood could relate. “N is running himself ragged trying to prove he’s a good parent or something and you need to make him quit before he injures himself.” Robin stilled. “What would Grayson be doing that would cause him such stress?” “He’s cooking,” Hood drawled. “And cleaning,” Red added. Robin’s whole body tensed. “I will take care of it.” He declared imperiously. Hood looked at Red, who shrugged. Yeah, good enough, I guess.

It was not good enough, he guessed, Jason realised as he took in what used to be his living room, but was now a cut out of a living room no one would ever willingly ”live” in from Garishly Tasteless Designs Magazine. He had his phone up and dialling before his eyes had even swept up the full length of the dirt-yellow curtains. It took a while to get the full effect of them, because he kept getting distracted by the frills and the suspiciously Nightwing-esque pattern. “Yeah?” Tim answered on the other end of the line. His voice said he was knee deep in something and wasn’t really paying attention. Probably his revenge plan, which Jason was seeing in a whole new light right now. “He redecorated.” Jason’s voice was so low it was almost a growl. There was a pause. “It didn’t stop?” Tim sounded much more alert and aware this time. “No it did I just went out and bought this lime green couch myself from Blind, Bath and Beyond,” Jason snapped. He heard Tim groan into the receiver. “But we even talked to Damian,” his replacement whined. Like he had anything to complain about. His living room didn’t have- was that a fucking Billy the Bass? Jason was going to shove his guns so far- “I’m calling the brat,” Jason ground out before hanging up and redialling. Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed grimly. “He- you must be mistaken.” “Look, kid, there aren’t a lot of things I know, what with my not completing my formal education and all, but if there is one thing I will never unlearn it’s how to spot Dick Grayson’s fucking taste in fabrics.” “I see.” No, you little shit. You don’t see. Jason was the one who was cursed with seeing this absolute monstrosity of a- was that crystal?! “You said you were handling it,” Jason reminded him, firmly putting his back to the living room. Looking at it was bad for his blood pressure. “I do not understand.” Damian said seriously. “I specifically told Grayson to stop bothering you and go back to Blüdhaven where he could be of use.” Oh. Oh Damian. Jason resisted the urge to smack the phone into his face. Sometimes Damian’s age and social inexperience really shone through. Jason took a deep breath to keep from screaming. “Listen, Damian.” Jason said carefully. “Dick is feeling a little neglected right now, and what he needs, what we asked you to do, was to start hanging out with him again.” “-tt-” Damian was probably rolling his eyes. Jason could have Tim check later, he was sure the little creep had cameras in every building in the city. “That is preposterous!” “No,” Jason said dangerously, “it’s not. So now would you just call him and tell him you need help with your homework or something?” It was truly a testament to Jason’s level of desperation that he was willing to be this nice and patient. “Grayson needs to rest-” “Just FUCKING CALL HIM!!” Ok, so there was a limit to that patience. Oh well, he was only human. Damian, however, apparently thought that this was one indignity too far because the call disconnected. Jason glanced behind him and immediately regretted it. Porcelain figurines. Oh, how he missed the days when he was a big-name villain, and the only thing Dick did was fight him. In the corner, a cuckoo clock struck seven and a tiny robin popped out and chirped at him. Jason’s vision blurred with sickly green for a moment. Yeah, he was staying in a safe house tonight.

It took for days of no progress and Tim having his entire coffee-stash replaced with decaf (“cheap decaf, Jason. Low-level, buy in bulk decaf.”) before they threw in the towel and went to the manor. The estate looked as menacing to him now as it had when Jason first saw it as a little kid from Crime Alley. It probably always would, no matter how many times he was back. If Tim was feeling apprehensive, it didn’t show. He just looked grumpy, like a particularly displeased cat. His replacement rapped his knuckles on the door and stepped back to cross his arms, frowning. He looked very intimidating. Like a squirrel with an anger management problem. The door swung open to reveal Steph, dressed in a t-shirt that Jason was pretty sure wasn’t supposed to be a splotchy pale blue. Her jeans looked new. “He’s not here,” Steph told them in a biting tone. “Who?” Tim asked. “Dick. Though for the record we have to come up with a new name for him because ‘Dick’ is going to be real ironic soon.” And whoa, Steph did know how to look properly intimidating. “What’d he do?” Jason asked her. Stephanie stepped back to let them inside. “There was an incident with a waffle iron,” she said icily. “He tried to cook?” Tim guessed, taking off his shoes. “He tried to laminate.” Steph corrected. Tim grimaced. “Is Damian here?” Steph snorted. “Damian is useless. We need to strike back.” She lowered her voice, her eyes cold. “And strike hard.” Damn, if this continued, Dick wouldn’t even be allowed back into Gotham. Actually, yeah he would. Only Batman could bar people from entering Gotham, apparently. Because Bruce was only one with any rights around here, that fucking- He was getting off subject. Also, not paying attention. “-alking to Dick,” Tim was saying, “trying to talk to him is a good way to make this worse.” “I wasn’t suggesting we talk to him.” Steph said, cracking her knuckles. Tim looked unimpressed, which frankly impressed Jason a little. Stephanie was scary. Not Batman scary but- Hang on. “Hang on,” Jason said, holding his hand up for emphasis, “Batman is the only one who can bar someone from coming to Gotham.” “What the hell is your point, zombie boy?” Steph asked, crossing her arms. “We don’t need to redirect Dickies attention back to Damian. We just need to redirect it. To someone.” Jason grinned at them and it probably only looked about 30% insane. “Someone with the power to stop him.” Understanding dawned on Stephanie and Tim’s faces. “Someone who deserves to have his clothes ruined,” Steph whispered reverently. “Someone who has time to redecorate because he doesn’t have a job,” Tim added gleefully, “someone who flounces into board meetings too late and does��nothing.” “Exactly.”

Tracking down Nightwing turned out to be the easiest thing they’d had to do so far. He didn’t even try to avoid them. “Hey guys!” N smiled cheerily at them as if he hadn’t spent the last two weeks putting them through some kind of Donna Reed inspired psychological torture. “Nightwing.” Red Robin greeted coldly and, yeah, in costume the replacement could totally pull off intimidating. “Whoa, what’s with the murder faces?” Nightwing said, stepping off the ledge he’d been standing on and walking closer. Hood crossed his arms. “You’ve been busy lately,” he commented and even the helmet couldn’t filter away the unvoiced insult at the end. “I guess?” N replied. “Did you like the brownies?” Hood tried to remember that they weren’t here to beat him senseless. Based on Spoiler’s clenched fists it seemed like he wasn’t the only one struggling with that. “N,” Red Robin said with the calm voice he usually reserved for interrogating suspects, “we appreciate you trying to… help us.” On “help us” Red’s voice broke through the calm and straight into “I’m going to kill you and bury you in store-brand decaf coffee” territory. “But we really are doing fine on our own.” Nightwing pursed his lips. “You are all working so hard-” he started, but Red cut him off. “Yes, and that’s why we appreciate it. But we’re actually worried about someone else, who needs your help a lot more than we do.” Nightwing paused and Hood could almost see the gears in his head whirring. “Who? Damian?” “Not Damian,” Red said, because they all knew it wouldn’t work to say it was Damian, “B.” Nightwing crossed his arms. “You think B needs help?” And here was the fragile part of their plan. Hood cleared his throat. “B,” he said, trying to keep his tone civil, “works himself to the bone and he doesn’t accept help from any of us.” “He has Alfie though,” N argued. “Alfie is busy taking care of Damian, since you’re not helping him as much anymore.” Spoiler rebutted. And damn, blondie, good answer. “We struggle too,” Red said, “but we help each other, right guys?” “Uh-huh,” Spoiler agreed. “Right.” Hood lied, thankful that the helmet veiled his eyeroll. “You guys help each other out,” Nightwing said with obvious disbelief. “You.” “Red is always helping me with cases,” Spoiler said, “and studies and stuff too. And I help him with staying alive and acting like a human.” Red nodded. “And Red and I work together on cases,” Hood said truthfully. “And sometimes Hood makes sure I eat and stuff,” Red added, “and I help him with security.” “They also hang out and play video games and watch nerdy movies,” Spoiler revealed. The little snitch. “Really?” Nightwing said, looking between the three of them. “That’s great!” He shuffled around a little. “So, you guys don’t need me either, huh?” Oh god. Oh dear god it was the voice. The patented Richard Grayson sad-and-feeling-neglected voice. The voice that could inspire shame and guilt in the most hard boiled criminal. At least he was wearing the mask so he couldn’t give them the accompanying puppy eyes. “Well,” Spoiler said and Hood could see her wavering. She didn’t have the years of experience needed to withstand Dick’s manipulation. “But B does!” Tim exclaimed, dragging Spoiler to stand behind him. Good move. “And the little brat too, even though he doesn’t admit it.” Hood added. Nightwing bit his lip. “Look,” Red’s voice was genuine now, “we all really do appreciate it, but B and Dami need your help more. And frankly, the last time I saw B he looked dead on his feet. We’re all good. But he isn’t. He sleeps less than I do.” Maybe that was even true. Huh. Were they doing B a solid here? Wait, no. No they weren’t. It was recommended by Martha, Dick you absolute menace. “Ok, I hear you.” N said solemnly. “I just wanted to help out.” Martha. Think about Martha. “We know,” Red said, patting N on the back. It was really awkward. “Did I tell you B has started eating power bars for dinner?” “Wait, seriously?” Nightwing looked disturbed. “That’s so bad for you.” “Yeah,” Hood said as if he hadn’t watched Red do that at least three dozen times, “he’s really setting a bad example for li’l D, isn’t he?” He thought Red might have done the wave if he could have. Hood certainly wanted to give himself the wave for that stroke of genius. “Okay, I know you guys are manipulating me,” Nightwing told them drily. Shit. “But you have a point.” Oh thank Jesus. N stretched. “Well,” he said, “I’m going to make sure B doesn’t kill himself. And yes, I’ll stop helping you guys.” He shook his head. “You three should really open up more, you know?” They nodded, because at this point they would do anything to make him stop “helping out”. Red cleared his throat. “So, good luck, uhm...” Nightwing grinned. “I’ll stop, but you all have to give me a hug before I leave.” Fuck. N pounced on Red like a jaguar on a gazelle, completely ignoring the scandalised (and very undignified) “meep” Red let out. Hood turned around, ready to make a run for it. “If you leave before a hug I’ll make you dinner next time!” Nightwing called cheerfully, still holding onto Red Robin like he was a life vest. Triple fuck. Hood sighed. The things you do to not have your living room secretly re-decorated.

As awful as it was to get cuddled by Nightwing, it was all worth it about a week later, when Tim climbed in through his living room window for their bi-weekly movie night. This week: when the great go bad- The Godfather 3, X-Men: The Last Stand, and Matrix Reloaded and Revolutions. “I see you got rid of the ruffles,” Tim remarked. “You didn’t see that on your stalker cam?” “I’ve been busy watching Bruce lately.” “Oh?” Jason prompted, putting the pizza boxes on the coffee-table. “He tried to call me five times today,” Tim said. He walked over and got two beers out of the fridge. Jason sniggered. “It’s that bad?” “He’s only got one target now. B is about to break.” “Tell me more, tell me more,” Jason said, making himself comfortable on his new -fucking stylish thank you very much -couch. “Like, did he do something to his car?” “I can’t believe you just made a Grease reference, you absolute nerd,” Tim commented flatly. “Musicals are cool,” Jason told him. Because it was true and he would fight anyone who said otherwise. “Was Olivia Newton John your childhood crush or something?” “Who’s to say it wasn’t Travolta?” Tim gave him a deadpan stare. “Because,” he said drily, “unlike Dick, you actually have taste.” Jason mulled that over. “Touché." He shrugged. "Now tell me about B.” Tim looked up from where he was connecting his computer to the TV and grinned sharply. “You want to experience what the Germans call ‘Schadenfreude’?” “Hell yeah I do.” Tim hit a key on his laptop and the Cave flickered into view on Jason’s TV. At least, he thought it was the cave. “Is that?” “He re-decorated the cave.” Tim laughed. It was not a nice laugh. Jason approved. On the screen, Bruce had just entered through the door to the storage area and was making his way to the computer. Trailing after him with a plate of questionable looking sandwiches was Dick. Jason nabbed a beer from the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. “Oh we are so watching this tonight. Sofia can wait.” “I made a compilation of the past week,” Tim said smugly, picking up the other beer and folding himself into Jason’s new armchair. It was beige and, most importantly, neither pea-green nor suede. On screen Bruce collapsed into his new, avant-garde office chair and put his head in his hands while Dick chatted pleasantly in his ear. “You know,” Tim said thoughtfully while Dick re-arranged Bruce’s files, “sometimes I think he’s being purposefully bad at this.” “Why?” “Oh just,” Tim reached for the pizza and Jason handed him the box, “whenever he starts doing this, we all have to interact with each other to make him stop. Like how you and I only started hanging out to begin with because he kept breaking into our safe houses to make ‘breakfast’. Well, that and that time he gave you a haircut in you sleep.” Jason stilled with his beer halfway to his mouth. “He…” Oh god. “That’s totally what he’s doing isn’t it?” Tim looked at him over his slice of pepperoni. “Yeah, probably.” Jason slammed his bear down on the table. “THAT SNEAKY FUCKING BASTARD!” Jason glared at Tim, the proof of Dick's successful manipulation. He didn't even like the replacement. Why the hell was he hanging out with him? Stupid, meddling big brothers who ruin your life. "It's okay," Tim reached over and patted his hand, "I just confirmed that they're taking his cereal off the shelves this week." And yeah, that made it a little better, actually. "I still don't like you." He told Tim. "I know. Wanna watch Bruce find out that Dick redid his wardrobe?" "Yeah ok," Jason grumbled. Maybe, he admitted to himself only, the replacement wasn't all bad. The screen zoomed in on Bruce's expression as he came face to face with a sequined suit. Yeah, Jason thought, taking another sip of beer, not all bad.

#fanfic #batfamily fanfic #batfam fic #pov:#jason todd #humor #tim drake #dick grayson #damian wayne #Stephanie Brown #special appearance:#Bruce Wayne #rated t #for language #4k+ words #1-5k #oneshot

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debbiechanclub · 4 years ago

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Best Two Out of Three, Part 16

Well, it’s late AF but I SAID I’d get it posted! And it’s a monster. And, pardon my French, but I’m damn fucking proud of it. (And thank you SO MUCH to @what-does-mine-say for her help!!!)

I just hope you all don’t hate me (or Alex for that matter) after reading it *nervous laughter*

Best Two Out of Three

Part: 16/26

Pairing: Kenny Omega x OFC x Cash Wheeler and Adam Page x OFC

Warnings: Language because it’s me; tremendous amounts of angst; anxiety; drinking and allusions to alcoholism; … and cheating *cries*

Word count: 7.7k

Catch up on previous parts here.

When Callie arrived back at the house from her run, she’d expected to hear the lawnmower. The grass was getting bad, and she’d asked Adam last night to please cut it that morning before it got too hot. But as she walked up the front porch and back into the house, it was silent. Too silent.

She pulled out her ear buds and set them with her phone on the kitchen island before marching upstairs to their bedroom. It was nearly 11, and if he was still asleep—

But when she burst into their bedroom, she found their king-sized bed empty and unmade. Her brow furrowed. She glanced toward the master bath; that was dark and empty, too. She turned and went back downstairs, searching through the house. He wasn’t in the den or the garage, or anywhere else that she could see. Finally, she peered through the sliding glass door into the backyard. Anger bubbled up inside her. Adam sat at the patio table, an open beer can in his hand.

The glass door gave an angry whir as Callie slid it open. Adam didn’t even so much as glance in her direction, too occupied with his phone. “Are you seriously drinking? It’s not even eleven, Adam.”

“It’s Miller Lite,” he dismissed with a roll of his eyes. “It’s practically water.”

Callie’s eyebrows arched. The question flew out of her mouth before she could stop it. “But is it your first?”

Adam’s gaze flicked up to meet hers. “Are you serious?”

For a moment, Callie was struck dumb by the darkness in his eyes. They held a storm of emotion—anger, hurt, betrayal. He’d never looked at her like that, and a wave of regret surged up through her. But she steeled herself against it. As much as it hurt her to see him in such a state, she knew it would only get worse if she didn’t say something.

“Yes, I’m serious,” she returned. “I know you’re upset about all the shit with Kenny and Alex, but it’s getting out of hand, Adam. You’ve been drinking more and more the last few weeks. I don’t think I’ve seen you without a drink in your hand since we got back from Jacksonville. Do you know how many empty beer cans and whiskey glasses I’ve cleaned up the last few days?”

He looked back down at his phone. “Well, no one asked you to clean them up,” he bluntly returned with a sip of his beer. It stunned her again. And then, it angered her.

“No, they didn’t,” she shot. “But I guess I’m the only one around here who cares. Do I need to mow the lawn, too?”

Adam abruptly slammed the beer can down onto the table, making Callie flinch. When he spoke, his voice came out eerily calm. “I’m a grown-ass man, Callie. Don’t talk to me like I’m a child in my own damn house.”

He stood up and stalked toward the patio door, not looking at her as he passed. She followed after him as he went inside. “Babe, please just talk to me.”

“I really don’t want to,” he said, moving toward the garage.

“Why not?”

He whirled around to face her. “Because I just don’t! Okay? Just let me deal with my shit how I want to deal with it!”

He glared down at her, and the look on his face sent Callie’s heart into her throat. If his eyes had been dark before, they were downright unrecognizable now. This wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with. She didn’t know who this person was.

“Well if this is how you want to deal with it, then I don’t want to be around it.”

She pushed past him and grabbed her phone off the kitchen island and her keys off the hook on the wall next to the garage door. Tears filled her eyes as she left and climbed into her car. She wasn’t sure what hurt worse: knowing that Adam was hurting, or knowing that he didn’t want her help to take away the pain.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex was trying every trick in the book to clear her head. She’d gotten up with the sun and gone for a run despite absolutely hating it. She’d cleaned her kitchen and bathroom and vacuumed the entire house. She’d taken a long, hot shower. Now, she was going through her entire wardrobe, getting rid of the things she didn’t wear and reorganizing the rest. But no matter what she tried she couldn’t distract herself from what she’d done.

She’d kissed Kenny, not the other way around. She’d grabbed him and kissed him, aching to feel him in that moment, and she’d only broken away at the prospect of getting caught. How much further would she have gone if she hadn’t heard those voices in the hall? Would she have kept kissing him? Would she have straddled his lap, let him carry her into the bathroom and fuck her on the sink? She liked to believe she wouldn’t, but she wasn’t sure. And she hated herself for that.

And Cash. She’d hidden it from him—all too easily. After his match she’d kissed him like her life depended on it, and he’d changed without even taking a shower so they could get back to the hotel as quickly as possible. She’d had bruises on her thighs from how hard he’d gripped her, her back pressed flat against the shower wall, teeth biting into his shoulder and her legs wrapped tight around him as he’d thrust deep into her. It had been the best sex they’d had yet; and she’d thought of Kenny as soon as it was over. She hated herself for that even more.

She grabbed a dress she hadn’t worn in over a year from off its hanger and walked out of her closet to toss it onto the quickly growing donate pile on her bed. It was probably a side effect of her guilty conscience, but she felt like purging everything and buying a whole new wardrobe. She walked over to her dresser and jerked open the bottom drawer where she kept all the t-shirts she never wore and started pulling them out onto the floor. But she suddenly stopped when she grabbed a pink and orange tie-dyed shirt that had been shoved into the back.

She sat back on her heels and smoothed out the fabric across her lap. The words “Daytona Beach” were printed in arched white lettering across the front. She’d completely forgotten she had that shirt; Kenny had bought it for her that day at the boardwalk. And now that she saw it, all the memories tied to it came flooding back in a rush.

She pushed herself to her feet and walked over to her nightstand and pulled open the drawer. She’d dropped Kenny’s locket in there as soon as she’d gotten home two days ago, and she’d managed to leave it there, out of sight and out of mind. But now she pulled it out and opened it.

Her stomach fluttered as she looked at the picture. She remembered that moment like it was yesterday. Kenny had put his arm around her waist and hugged her close on the photobooth bench. He’d smirked down at her and asked, “Are you really mad at me?” She’d pouted and turned to tell him, “Yes,” but he’d kissed her before she could. And she’d forgotten all about him wiping the floor with her on every game in that arcade.

She closed the locket and slipped the chain over her neck as she moved to her full-length mirror. The chain was long, and the locket hung below her chest, halfway to her belly button. She was impressed with how well Kenny had done; it was exactly her style. And as she looked at herself in the mirror, she had a thought.

She grabbed her phone off her bed and walked back to the mirror. She mussed her long brown hair just so and half-tucked her oversized tank top into her cutoff shorts, adjusting it so that her lacy bralette peeked out of the low-cut neck, and struck a flattering pose. She must have taken twenty photos before she finally got one she liked. It was definitely a little bit sexy; but honestly, that was what she wanted. She opened up Instagram, chose the photo from her gallery, and typed up a caption. Feeling cute, might delete later #ootd. And then she hit “post.” To everyone else, it would just look like a typical girly Instagram post. But when Kenny saw the locket around her neck, he would know.

She tossed her phone back onto the bed and went back to cleaning out her dresser. She got through the rest of the t-shirts and most of the next drawer before she couldn’t stop herself from looking anymore.

She picked up her phone and opened Instagram. The picture already had a few dozen likes, mostly from fans but a few from friends. Trent had already commented. Your pockets are longer than your shorts. She rolled her eyes.

A new notification popped up and she immediately opened it. Cash had liked the photo and commented with a heart eyes emoji. Alex’s heart sank, suddenly feeling guilty for even getting the idea to post the picture. But, suddenly, another notification came in: kennyomegamanx liked your photo.

Her heart sped up. A few seconds later, her phone chirped with a text—from Kenny.

Fuck, Alex. I wasn’t expecting that. Do you know what you’re doing to me right now?

Alex bit her lip as she read the message, over and over again. It was bold, and she had enabled it. But before she could decide what the hell she should do, if anything at all, another text came in—from Cash.

Good lord, sweetheart. I’m about to get in my car and not stop until I’m at your house and in those cutoffs.

Alex threw her phone to the bed like it was on fire. She ran her hands through her hair. “What the fuck are you doing?” she breathed. But, suddenly, her phone rang. She stole a glance at the screen, terrified it was Kenny or Cash—but it was Callie.

She picked it up and answered it, welcoming the unexpected interruption. “Hello?”

“Hey. Are you busy?”

Her voice was thick; she sounded upset. Alex’s brow furrowed. “No. I’m actually trying to make myself busy,” she admitted with a wry laugh. “Why? What’s going on?”

Callie drew in a shaky breath. Was she crying? “I know this is last minute and you don’t exactly live right down the road… but I’d really appreciate it if you came over.”

“Yeah,” Alex immediately said. “Of course. Should I pack a bag or anything?”

She didn’t answer right away. “If you want,” she eventually said.

Alex chewed her lip. “Okay. Is everything alright?”

It seemed like a stupid question; it certainly didn’t sound like everything was alright. But, whatever it was, Callie didn’t want to discuss it over the phone. “We’ll talk about it when you get here,” she said.

“Okay,” Alex said again. “See you in a couple hours.”

They said goodbye and hung up. Alex navigated back to Cash’s text and typed up a quick reply. Hold that thought. Callie just called and asked me to come over. She sounded upset.

She hit send—and then she pulled up Kenny’s text again. She opened the emoji keyboard and looked at the frequently used tab. The very first one was the kissing face emoji. She’d recently sent it—to Cash. Her thumb hovered over it, tempted to send it to Kenny. But she thought better of it and closed out of her messages and locked her phone, hurrying to pack a bag and get out the door.

* * * * * * * * * *

Callie had texted Alex to meet her at a grocery store parking lot about twenty minutes from the house. If there was one complaint she had about living out in Middle-of-Nowhere, Virginia, it was that it took at least twenty minutes to get to anything; it certainly wasn’t like that where she was from in California, and she still hadn’t gotten used to it. But she’d trade every convenience in the world for Adam. He was her world. But, right now, she didn’t feel like she was his.

She sat in her car staring at her phone, hoping he would call or text, getting angrier by the second. Didn’t he care where she was? She’d been gone for hours. She opened up Instagram and started scrolling, hoping to distract herself, and when she got bored with that she turned to Twitter. She was typing a snarky reply to something Britt had tweeted when someone knocked on her window, making her jump. She looked up. It was Alex.

She jumped out of the car, nearly hitting Alex with the door as she opened it, and threw her arms around her neck.

“Okay, you’re kinda scaring me now,” Alex awkwardly returned; she clearly hadn’t expected to be ambushed with a hug. “What’s going on?”

Callie could feel the tears rising from her stomach to her throat, threatening to spill. “Adam and I got into it this morning. I walked out right before I called you. I’ve been gone for hours and he doesn’t even seem to care.”

Alex relaxed and returned the embrace. “Why’d you get into it?”

“His drinking.” Callie sniffled as she pulled away. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. “It’s gotten completely out of hand. It’s all he ever seems to do anymore, and he won’t talk to me or let me help him…”

Her voice broke, and Alex immediately pulled her into another hug as the tears finally broke forth. “Why is he drinking?” she asked.

Callie pulled away again, wiping her cheeks dry. “Kenny,” she said. “He feels guilty about setting you up with Cash now that he knows how Kenny feels. And Kenny’s behavior isn’t helping.”

Alex seemed to freeze when she said that, her eyes wide and her jaw tight. But before Callie could ask, she said, “Come on. I’ll take care of it.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Twenty minutes later, Alex didn’t wait for Callie before she climbed out of her Jeep and moved toward the front door of Callie and Adam’s house. Callie hurried to catch up with her as she let herself in.

“Where is he?” Alex asked.

“I’m not sure,” Callie said. “Probably in the backyard.”

Alex walked into the kitchen and got a glass out of one of the cabinets. She turned on the sink and filled it to the top with water.

“What’re you doing?” Callie asked.

She gave her a look. “Sobering him up.”

She walked purposefully toward the back of the house and out the sliding glass door. Adam sat with his eyes closed on one of the patio couches in front of the fire pit, his boots propped up on the ottoman, a beer can clutched in his hand. He didn’t even stir as Alex marched right up to him and threw the entire glass of water in his face.

“What the fuck?!” He sat up, sputtering. He blinked his eyes open against the light and water. “Alex?” he asked in confusion and anger. “What the fuck was that for?”

“For being a fucking jerk,” she returned. “For being passed out drunk in your backyard.”

“I’m not—” he cut himself off with a groan as he wiped the water from his face. “What the fuck are you even doing here?”

“Callie called me crying and asked me to come over,” she said with a motion toward Callie. “Did you even realize she was gone for more than two fucking hours?”

Adam cast his gaze regretfully at Callie. But he had nothing to say for himself. Alex let out a breath. She walked over to Callie and squeezed her shoulder. “Give us a minute, alright?”

She nodded. Her eyes were full of hurt as she looked briefly at Adam before turning and going back into the house. Alex made sure she’d closed the door behind her before she walked back over and sat down next to Adam on the couch, setting the empty glass on the ottoman. Adam spoke first.

“Did she really call you crying?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he breathed. “What did she say?”

“That your drinking’s gotten out of hand. That you’re self-medicating because you feel guilty about me and Kenny and won’t talk to her about it.”

For a long time, Adam didn’t say anything. When he finally did speak, he couldn’t look at her. “He blames me, Alex. He thinks I’m the reason that you two aren’t together anymore. And he’s not wrong.”

Alex’s face fell, suddenly becoming conscious of the weight of Kenny’s locket around her neck. She hadn’t bothered to take it off before running out of her house to meet Callie. She gripped the locket in her hand, worried that somehow Adam would know what it was. Know what she’d done after Dynamite that week. “Why do you think he blames you?”

“Because he fucking told me he does,” he returned with a look at her. His eyes were glassy. “He called me a guilty drunk.”

Her brow furrowed. “When?”

“After the fight at the hotel. I went to his room to talk to him. He thought I’d called him over to rub you and Cash in his face.”

Alex’s heart sank when she saw the look on Adam’s face. He was lost, broken, hurt. And then she realized: this wasn’t really about her and Kenny. It was about him and Kenny.

She scooted closer and pulled him into a hug. “You’re not a guilty drunk,” she assured. “You’re a good friend. Everything you did was done with good intentions. I know Kenny can’t see that now… but he will.”

Adam didn’t say anything in return. He just gripped her tight, clinging to her like a lifeline. It worried Alex. She’d never seen him like this. She’d witnessed his anxiety countless times before, the way he tended overthink and constantly doubt himself, but this was deeper. She wished she could take some of it on herself, help unburden him, if only for a moment.

Eventually, he let her go. He looked so tired. So defeated. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s better this way.”

She cocked her head at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’ve felt like a black sheep for six months now,” he said. “Maybe longer. I don’t fit in with Kenny and Matt and Nick. That’s why I’ve been hanging out with Dax and Cash; I fit in with them. I know them, they accept me for who I am. And I feel like Kenny and the Bucks don’t. So I don’t know. Maybe I should just cut my losses.”

Alex frowned. “Trust me, I know how you feel.”

“What?” He gave her a confused look. “You and Best Friends are four peas in a fucking pod.”

A corner of her mouth quirked up. “No, I don’t mean them,” she clarified. “When I was… involved with Kenny last year, the entire time I felt like Matt and Nick hated me; especially Matt. It just seemed like they didn’t think I was good enough for Kenny. Honestly, sometimes I wonder if they influenced him against me.”

“Like I did with you against Kenny,” Adam muttered.

She pursed her lips. “The point I’m trying to make is that I know exactly how exclusive Kenny and the Bucks can act. But they let you into their circle for a reason. Yeah, you’re different from them in a lot of ways. But that doesn’t mean you don’t fit in. It just means you bring something unique to the table that none of them do. And if they don’t appreciate that… then that’s on them.”

Adam looked down at the ground. Alex wasn’t sure if he believed what she was telling him, but when he looked back at her his eyes seemed a little brighter. “Remember how we always used to talk about being a tag team? Maybe it’s time we finally did it.”

Alex gave a sarcastic laugh. “I’m sure Kenny would love that.”

He returned her grin, but it faded fast. “Thank you for being there for Callie,” he said. “I know I’m in the fucking doghouse now.”

She shook her head. “Just talk to her. That’s all she wants.”

He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Thank you, Alex,” he said again. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

She squeezed his hand back. “I know. Don’t let Chuck hear you say that, though.”

“I don’t care, I’ll fight him.”

She smiled and pulled him into another hug. “No more drinks the rest of the day, alright?”

“Deal,” he agreed. They unwrapped their arms from around each other. “Do you want to stay for dinner, or something? You came all the way out here.”

Alex shook her head as she pushed her hair behind her ear. “No; I’ll give you two your privacy. Besides, I think the drive back will help clear my head.”

His brows knitted together when she said that. “Is everything alright?”

She pressed her mouth into a thin line. No, everything was not alright. But there was no way she could tell Adam what had happened with Kenny, not after what he’d just told her about all he was going through with The Elite. So she just said, “It’s just stuff. I’m an anxious millennial, too.”

Adam looked like he didn’t quite believe her; but, thankfully, he let it go. “Alright. Well text me when you get home.”

“I will.”

They exchanged goodbyes, and Alex went back into the house and exchanged a few reassuring words with Callie before going out the door and climbing back into her Jeep. And as she got on the road and started the two-hour drive back home, she rolled down the windows and cranked up the music, hoping it would take her away to another place.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex closed her eyes and pulled her legs into her chest as she sunk back into her cubby hole in the locker room, making herself small. She breathed in through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, trying desperately to just focus on the moment in front of her. She’d been ruminating all day—all week—teetering on the edge of an anxiety attack ever since she’d set foot into Daily’s Place. And she had no one to blame but herself.

Cash knew something was wrong. She’d told him she was nervous about his match that night, which wasn’t entirely untrue—FTR was teaming with The Elite against Dark Order in a 12-man tag match. He’d assured her that it would be alright; he was more than capable of putting his issues with Kenny aside for the sake of the match. But his assurance had only made her feel worse. The issues he knew were just the tip of the iceberg.

Alex had tried not to text Kenny back after he’d responded to her Instagram post. She’d tried to put it out of her mind, and she’d damn near succeeded. But, later that night, long after she’d returned home from Callie and Adam’s, Kenny had sent another message: Why’d you post that picture? And she hadn’t been able to stop herself from answering: Because I was thinking of you.

It had been a slippery slope from there.

I can’t ever stop thinking of you.

We shouldn’t do this.

You’re the one who posted that picture. You wanted me to see it.

I’m going to sleep.

Goodnight, baby.

I dreamed about you last night.

A good dream or a bad dream?

A good one. A not PG one.

And what did you do when you woke up?

Do you have to ask?

Did you think of me?

Yes.

Do you think of me when you’re with him?

Kenny, stop. This isn’t right.

That’s not a no.

She’d deleted the texts before going to Cash’s place the next day; and, somehow, that made her feel even guiltier than sending them. It meant she had something to hide. It proved that Kenny still held a part of her heart even while she was falling in love with Cash. And she knew that if she didn’t figure out who she wanted to give her heart to completely, she’d be left with nothing but a gaping hole in her chest.

Someone nudged her knee. She opened her eyes. Chuck stood in front of her. “Hey. Are you coming out with us for our match against Santana and Ortiz?”

Alex chewed nervously on her lip. But she nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

He smiled. “Cool. We’re on second in case you haven’t seen the card.”

Alex just nodded. She knew they were on second—right after FTR and The Elite’s match against Dark Order. The thought of that alone made her anxious.

Her phone vibrated in her hand. She looked down at the screen and felt herself stumble closer to the edge. It was a text from Kenny.

Meet me in the EVP room. Please.

Her mouth went dry. She knew she shouldn’t go even as she stood and told Chuck she’d be right back. She knew she should turn around with every step she took closer and closer to the EVP room. She knew she shouldn’t raise her fist and knock even as she did, and she definitely knew she shouldn’t have gone in and closed the door as soon as she saw Kenny sitting on the couch, alone.

“Hey.” He stood and met her halfway, and the next thing Alex knew his hands were on her face and his lips on hers. It was a different kiss entirely from the one they’d shared last week, tender and slow instead of desperate and hungry, and, for a few seconds, she returned it. But then she thought of Cash and pushed him away.

“No; we can’t do this, Kenny.”

She took a step back, afraid that if she didn’t he’d pull her right back into his orbit. Even now she could feel it tugging at her heart.

He breathed a laugh. “Yeah, you keep saying that. Yet here you are.”

Her shoulders slumped. She had no good answer for that. He was right.

He took a step closer. She didn’t move. “Why post that picture?” He gripped her hips, drawing her into him. “Why tell me that you got yourself off thinking about me if you don’t want this?”

“I’m not cheating on Cash.”

“So break up with him.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “It’s not that simple.”

He looked to the ceiling, let her go and took a step back. “Right. Of course it’s not,” he breathed. “But it was simple when you ended things with me to start seeing him.”

Alex’s eyebrow arched. Hurt. “No, it wasn’t.”

“Wasn’t it?”

“No,” she repeated. “That was the hardest fucking conversation I’ve ever had. And it’s not fair of you to compare that to this. That was different.”

“How? How was it different?”

“Because we weren’t together. I didn’t cheat on you with Cash.”

“Oh bullshit, Alex,” he shot. “We were together.”

“For a week. I’ve been with Cash for over a month now.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Again, she was at a loss. She was here with him because a part of her wanted to be. But another part of her knew it was wrong.

He stepped forward again, cupped her face in his hands. He looked into her eyes, and Alex felt it all the way into her soul. “What do you want, Alex?”

Her answer came out barely above a whisper. “I don’t know.”

The door handle suddenly turned. Alex and Kenny jumped apart from each other just as Matt and Nick walked into the room. They both came to a halt just inside the door, staring back and forth between them. Alex flushed and looked away. If the conspicuous distance between her and Kenny wasn’t a dead giveaway that they’d interrupted something, the awkward silence certainly was.

“Uh, hey guys…” Nick said just to say something. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Alex quickly returned. Too quickly. She glanced at Kenny, “I just had a question… about the women’s tag team tournament. So, I came and asked it.”

Matt and Nick stared blankly back at her. That was a blatant lie; she wasn’t even in the women’s tag team tournament. Her heart pounded in her ears. She needed to leave.

“Well, I’m gonna go,” she said. “Gotta get ready for Chuck and Trent’s match against Santana and Ortiz.”

She didn’t look back at Kenny as she moved toward the door. Matt and Nick stepped aside so she could exit, and she hurried out the door and into the hall, stumbling on the edge, using what little strength she had left to at least make it somewhere private before she broke down.

* * * * * * * * * *

Alex stood next to Callie at Gorilla, her eyes trained on the monitor in front of them, chewing her lip so hard that it started to hurt. Neither of them had said so much as a word to each other since the 12-man tag match had started. They were both far too wrapped up in their own thoughts and concerns about the men in the ring.

She held her breath as Stu Grayson and Nine set up Adam for a double vertical suplex; but Dax and Cash came in for the save, catching Adam before he could hit the mat. Kenny joined them, and they all lined up and hit a four-on-three triple vertical suplex against Grayson, Nine, and Evil Uno. Adam went for the pin—but Colt Cabana flew in and broke it up.

Callie let out a breath. “Well, they’ve actually been working pretty well together so far,” she remarked.

Alex didn’t say anything in response. Much to her surprise, they had been working well together so far, and Dark Order hadn’t been able to get in much offense at all. But Kenny and Cash had also largely avoided each other. It was an easy thing to do in a match with so many people.

Smack!

Shit.” Alex’s hand flew to her mouth. After Colt had broken up the pin attempt, Kenny had given chase to him around the ring—and he’d run straight into a massive superkick from Brodie Lee.

The domination by The Elite and FTR ended at that point. Grayson and Uno isolated Kenny in the ring, taking turns beating him down. Alex almost didn’t want to watch. But then Five tagged in, and Kenny managed to dive for a tag to Dax.

Kenny rolled to the floor outside the ring while FTR went to work on Five. He charged Cash in the corner, but Cash floated over him, rebounded off the ropes, and caught him in a resounding powerslam. Then Grayson ran in, but Cash hit him with a back suplex, followed by a powerful clothesline to take out Evil Uno right after.

“Damn,” Callie smirked at her. “That’s your man.”

Alex’s stomach churned. That was her man. And he had no idea he was sharing her heart with someone else.

They turned their attention back to the match. FTR and Adam were all in the ring. They looked like they were attempting to put simultaneous figure four leg locks on Five, Grayson, and Uno; but before they could, the three members of the Dark Order all kicked them away at once, sending them crashing into each other.

After that, The Elite took over. Kenny returned to the match and worked impeccably with Adam against Five and Grayson, and Nick showed off why he was the best high-flier in the company. But Alex’s eyes were on Cash, watching him as he stood on the ring apron with Dax. It was subtle, but she could tell that he didn’t like standing by while Kenny and the rest of The Elite took all the glory. She was certain it didn’t help when Kenny and Nick started pandering to the camera, chanting, “The Elite! The-the Elite!”

Eventually, Dax tagged in. He grabbed Five and held him across his knee, setting up for Demolition Decapitation. But when Cash delivered the tandem move from the middle rope, Dax fell to the mat, clutching his right knee.

“Oh no,” Callie gasped.

Alex watched in concerned silence as Cash went to check on his partner. Meanwhile, Kenny tagged in and hit a Dr. Wiley Bomb on Five; but other members of Dark Order broke up the pin attempt.

After that, Kenny was left to fend for himself. Cash and the ringside trainer helped Dax to the back—as did Adam. Nick and Matt watched after him as he went, completely confused as to why he was going with them.

So was Callie. “What is he doing?”

Alex didn’t know what to say. She thought back to what Adam had told her that weekend, how he felt more comfortable with FTR than he did The Elite. She wondered if he’d said as much to Callie after she’d left. But then Adam appeared, passing through the Gorilla curtain after FTR and the trainer. Callie sent him a perplexed look.

“Adam, what are you doing?”

He didn’t break his stride as he looked at her over his shoulder. “What?” he returned, as if he didn’t understand why she was asking such a thing. “He’s hurt, Callie.”

Callie gaped back at him. “But your tag team partner is still out there…” she said, more to herself than him. He was already gone.

They both turned back to the monitor. It was a six-on-three match now, and Dark Order was taking turns beating down Matt. Colt nearly scored the victory for his team after hitting a big splash off the top rope, but Matt kicked out. He got a last burst of energy and did his best to fend them off; Callie cheered when he hit Five with a springboard stunner. Seeing an opening, he tried to tag in Nick—but Evil Uno pulled him to the floor and delivered a brutal belly-to-belly suplex that flattened him.

Once again, Matt was left to keep his team alive. But then a blur ran past Callie and Alex. Adam. He hurried to the ring apron, extending his arm out to Matt. He tagged him in—and Adam went ballistic. He delivered lariats to Grayson and Five before launching himself over the ropes and taking out Colt with a crossbody. Then he jumped back in the ring and delivered another lariat that sent Five over the ropes before running and diving through the ropes in a suicide dive to take out Nine.

Alex stole a glance at Callie. She expected her to be wildly cheering Adam on with the crowd—but she looked confused still. “Where the hell is Kenny?” she suddenly asked.

“There,” Alex said with a nod as he appeared on the other side of the ring apron from where Adam stood. But then Adam climbed atop the turnbuckle and did a moonsault onto all of Dark Order except Brodie—and Mr. Lee was not happy.

Adam picked Five up and tossed him back into the ring, climbing in after him. He threw him face-first into the turnbuckle, goading Brodie to tag in. It worked. He stepped through the ropes and the two men sized each other up. Adam started talking shit, and Alex smirked; that was the Hangman she knew. But then Brodie struck. They started trading big blows in the middle of the ring, but Dark Order gained the upper hand by opening the ropes just as Adam tried to rebound off them, sending him falling to the floor below. Brodie dove through the ropes and hit him like a battering ram, and Adam slammed into the guardrail. But Brodie didn’t waste a second; he immediately threw him back into the ring. The next thing they knew, Adam was draped across Colt’s shoulders as he stood atop the middle rope, a soon-to-be victim of the Chicago Skyline.

He hit the move. Callie and Alex both winced as Adam ricocheted off the turnbuckle and rolled lifelessly to the center of the mat. “Okay seriously, where the fuck is Kenny?” Callie asked again as Colt went for the pin. Her question was answered went Kenny suddenly dove into the ring, breaking up the pin attempt at two.

“Finally!” Callie breathed. She was obviously frustrated. Maybe Adam had told her how he’d been feeling about The Elite, Alex thought.

Kenny and Adam did their best to regain control, but Grayson and Evil Uno hit them with a combination 450 splash and corner cannonball. Kenny rolled out of the ring while Grayson covered Adam—but he kicked out a two.

“Yes!” Callie and Alex both proclaimed. They exchanged a grin.

Grayson tagged in Brodie. But before he could hit Adam with a discus lariat, Matt and Nick jumped into the ring and delivered a Superkick Party just as Adam ducked out of the way. They did the same to Uno and Grayson, clearing the ring of everyone but Brodie.

Kenny slid back into the ring while Adam rolled out of it onto the ramp. Kenny charged and locked his arms behind Brodie’s head, and he and the Bucks hit a combination Superkick Party and snapdragon suplex to the leader of Dark Order.

Kenny pulled Brodie to his knees in the center of the ring and pointed at Adam as he climbed to his feet. Adam ran toward the ropes and flipped into the ring, going for the Buckshot Lariat; but Brodie ducked out of the way, causing him to nearly hit Kenny instead. Alex’s heart dropped into her stomach as Adam turned around. Brodie hit him with a massive lariat that sent him flipping head over heels onto the mat. He covered him, and the ref counted one-two-three.

“Fuck,” Alex breathed. This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

“Oh my God.” Callie ran her hands through her hair, gripping at the ends. “This is the last thing he needs right now,” she said, just above her breath.

Kenny and the Bucks moved to check on Adam as Dark Order assembled victorious on the entrance ramp. Alex couldn’t watch anymore. “I’m gonna go find Cash,” she said to Callie.

She nodded. “Yeah, go. I’ll deal with this.”

Alex gave her a tight smile as she turned and hurried out of Gorilla. She really did want to go find Cash and see if Dax was alright. But she also just didn’t want to be there when Kenny came back through the curtain.

* * * * * * * * * *

Later that night, Alex laid in bed with Cash in their hotel room, scrolling through her Twitter timeline on her phone. The room was quiet—almost awkwardly so. But there was far too much weighing on her right now. Keeping her mouth shut seemed like the safest option, no matter how much it pained her.

Her timeline was inundated with tweets about the 12-man tag match, hours after it had happened. She came across one speculating about Dax’s injury; thankfully, he’d just tweaked his knee. But it was bad enough that the trainer had told him he needed to rest it for the next few days.

She abruptly stopped scrolling when she came across a video of Adam nearly nailing Kenny with the Buckshot Lariat. She watched it a few times over with the sound off, trying to gauge Kenny’s reaction; but it was too hard to tell. She hoped Kenny knew it was a complete accident. She hoped Adam didn’t blame himself for the loss.

Suddenly, Cash took her phone and gently pulled it out of her hands. She gave him a confused look as he set it on the nightstand with his. “What’re you doing?”

He didn’t say anything; he just pulled her closer and kissed her. His tongue parted her lips, tasting her, and Alex welcomed his touch. She ran her hand up the back of his neck and threaded her fingers through his hair, relishing the feel of him. He moved his mouth to her neck. “Tell me what’s wrong,” he murmured against her skin.

She went rigid and then instantly tried to relax again, hoping he hadn’t noticed. “Nothing’s wrong,” she lied.

“Yes there is.” He pulled back and looked down at her. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

Alex’s heart dropped into her stomach. There was more than just concern in Cash’s eyes as he stared into hers. There was love. And suddenly, she knew she couldn’t hide it from him anymore.

“I kissed Kenny.”

She almost couldn’t hear herself say it, her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears. But she didn’t miss the way Cash’s expression changed. Confusion. Disbelief. “What?”

Tears sprung into Alex’s eyes, burning her sinuses. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He sat up, pulling away from her. His sudden distance made the air feel cold. “When?”

“Last week,” she said. The rest of it came tumbling out in a rush. “I went to talk to him during your match about something Matt Jackson had said to me earlier in the day. But when I got there he gave me a locket he’d had made for me. He told me he’s in love with me.”

Cash sat up further. “What?”

Tears fell from her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I was overwhelmed and I wasn’t thinking—”

She abruptly stopped when Cash flung back the covers and sprung out of bed. Alex watched as he haphazardly pulled on a pair of sweats. She felt herself start to panic. “What’re you doing?”

He didn’t justify her with a response. Instead, he charged out the door and slammed it shut behind him.

Alex sat there for a second, stunned in the deafening silence. And then she realized exactly what he was doing.

She scrambled out from under the covers and ran out the door after him. He was already halfway down the hall. Headed straight for Kenny’s room.

“Cash, wait!” she begged, shouting after him. But he didn’t stop—not until he was in front of Kenny’s door. Alex moved her legs faster.

He balled up a fist and banged so hard on the door that it reverberated down the hall. “Open up, Kenny!” he yelled, deep and angry in his chest.

“Please don’t do this,” Alex pleaded. Kenny opened the door just as she reached him.

“What the f—”

He didn’t get to finish before Cash punched him hard in the mouth.

Kenny stumbled back into the room and fell to the floor. Cash was on him in an instant. He grabbed him by the hair and hit him again.

“STOP!” Alex bellowed. Suddenly, Matt and Nick came flying from next door. They charged into the room and forcefully pried Cash off of Kenny.

“Get the fuck off me!” Cash shouted as they struggled to hold him back. He was enraged. “Who the fuck do you think you are, Kenny? Huh? Telling another man’s girlfriend you’re in love with her?”

Kenny smirked up at him. His mouth was red with blood. “What?” he taunted. “Are you worried about it?”

Cash tried to lunge at him again, but Matt managed to force him out the door and into the hall, nearly bowling over Alex in the process. Nick slammed the door closed, staying in the room with Ken. Matt gave Cash a final hard shove before pointing a stern finger in his face.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the fuck outta here.”

But Cash wasn’t intimidated. “Oh yeah? What’re you gonna do, Matt? Suspend me?”

Matt took a threatening step forward. “I’ll fucking fire you.”

Alex stood rooted to her spot, petrified, afraid to even breathe as the two men stared each other down. She’d never seen Matt so angry, and she didn’t doubt for a second that he would fire Cash. But, thankfully, Cash swallowed his pride and turned and stalked back off down the hall without another word.

It took a second for Alex to get her legs to work so she could follow after him. “Cash, wait,” she said again—and again, he didn’t stop or look back. She hurried to keep up with him. As soon as they were back inside their room, he whirled around to face her, stopping her dead. His eyes were hard.

“You kissed him?”

She had to swallow a lump in her throat before she could answer. “Yes.”

He let out a breath, ran a hand through his hair. He turned and walked further into the room. “Did anything else—” but he cut himself off, shaking his head. “Actually, no. I don’t even want to know. Because I knew—I knew you weren’t over him.”

The accusation knocked the air from Alex’s lungs. She felt hollow. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t breathe.

He looked back at her. And as they stared at each other from across the room, Alex realized that the hardness in his eyes wasn’t out of anger. It was out of hurt. “Alex… you need to figure out who you want: me or him.”

She took a step forward. “I want—”

“No,” he shook his head, cutting her off. “Don’t say you want me because it’s the right thing to say right now. You need to think about it. And so do I.”

He turned away from her again. “Cash…”

“You should probably sleep somewhere else tonight.”

That was the final blow. It cut her legs out from underneath her, gutted her from pelvis to sternum. And it felt like she’d done it to herself.

She walked over to the nightstand and grabbed her phone. Their gaze met as he sat down on the bed. His eyes were glassy.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed, and she turned and went out the door with a gaping hole in her chest where her heart should have been.

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borderlinebetch · 3 years ago

Text

I’m 33, if you don’t know that about me already. I just want to say that age doesn’t always improve symptoms of mania or hyper mania. I try to be as in-tune as possible. But I didn’t see this manic episode until after the damage was done and I started crashing down, fast.

I made multiple frivolous purchases I will likely have to return because it wasn’t financially responsible.

Most of them were organizers for kitchen shelves/cabinets because

I pulled everything out of my kitchen cabinets to rearrange and reorganize every one of them.

I was taking out trash and got distracted and wound up cutting down tons of lower branches from my pear tree in the front yard because the branches hang low. But

I stopped after I cut them all down. I didn’t haul them round back to burn once they dry up. If I don’t move them in the next couple days the grass beneath them will die.

I vacuumed and mopped less than one quarter of a room because I remembered I needed to replace the artisanal cold press face soap in my shower that is down to a thin sliver. And

I never got back to it (the sweeping/mopping).

There are projects half-started everywhere and I’m so exhausted. I’m crashing down hard and it wasn’t until I started crashing that I realized what had been happening. I feel like I’m a spectator in my own life.

Disordered thinking sucks. It doesn’t matter how intelligent you are, you can “get got” by your own mind.

#bipolar #bipolar i #bipolar disorder #bpd #actually bpd #bpd shit #manic #actually manic #mania

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sarah-sandwich · 4 years ago

Note

Happy FFWF! Give me a short description of all your current wips, and tell me which is your favorite and why!

GUh you just love to test me. I think Lemon Boy is my fav right now but that’s liable to change at any given moment. It’s Harley-centric (probably why it’s my fav tbh) and it’s all about growing and loving yourself and accepting love from others.

My brain moves fast but I write slow so don’t get excited about any of these beyond the first two bc who knows when they’ll actually get published or if they’ll end up tragically abandoned in my wip folder.

Sarah’s WIPs:

Lemon Boy - parkner - Harley-centric

After the snap, Harley inherits a rundown house in Queens from his estranged uncle. He moves in and starts fixing it up, puts out an ad for a roommate, and gets landed with Peter Parker of all people. They’re both grieving Tony and are handling it poorly in their own way. It’s a slow burn and the majority of the fic is them learning to lean on each other.

Paradise (spread out with a butter knife) - spideypool - Peter-centric - only one chapter left! I’m gonna finish that final 25% soon. Soon.

Soulmate AU that’s more about friendship than soulmates. Peter is alone and depressed when Deadpool blows into NYC and somehow weasels his way into being mentored by Spider-Man. What Peter thought was going to be a few months of keeping an eye on DP and making sure he doesn’t kill anyone turns into them being best friends, mutually pining but not doing anything about it because (as far as Peter knows) he’s got a soulmate out there somewhere in the world and Wade doesn’t.

michelle.mp3 - gwen/mj - Michelle-centric

MJ moves out to the country to deal with some stuff. She’s just leasing the place from her grandma. It’s not permanent. She’s just... tired of feeling stuck. She’s a writer and an artist but she’s lived her entire life in NYC. She needs to experience things. She can’t marry her high school sweetheart. She can’t live her entire life in the city she was born in. She needs variety. She needs space. She needs air. She needs to try something new (even if that something is learning that mowing is not like vacuuming and that removing ugly shrubs is more difficult than anticipated).

What she finds is a musician living next door and maybe possibly someone who understands.

She Freaked Out - gwen/mj - Michelle-centric - takes place in the Freak Out verse

MJ has never gotten along with her older sister. They’re too different. Where MJ is calm and analytical, Amanda is all fire and impulse. So when Amanda gets in a life-threatening accident in NYC while MJ is at school in CA, she drops everything and goes home. No one gets it. They think she dropped out because Stanford was too much of a challenge. They think she’s giving up on her dreams. She considers it more a... reorganization of priorities. Her sister could have died and they weren’t even friends. She can go to school anywhere but her sister is in New York, so that’s where she needs to be.

Mending the bridge with her sister and being there for her as she learns her new disability is her focus. Getting to know Gwen and learning that she doesn’t need to have everything 100% under control all the time is a perk.

Quit Freaking Out - Harley-centric one-shot - you guessed it, takes place in the Freak Out verse

Harley and Tony are tinkering with the portal technology from YFO and oops! Harley gets blasted into the past. He’s still in Tony’s lab, but it’s how it was before he remodeled in anticipation of Morgan’s birth, before they hung up the wall mural, and oh yeah, Peter still hates him. Luckily he’s still got that sticky note with the wizard’s address on it in his wallet. Hopefully he can get him back home before he screws up his perfect future.

Heart (in hand) Home (in you) - parkner 2.5k one-shot

Not actually a wip but I wanted to plug it. It’s done and I’ll be posting it Wednesday (Serotonin Wednesdays live on!) It features sick!Harley, established relationship, romantic!Peter, and some peaceful winter vibes. It could fit in the Freak Out verse if you want it to but I’ll be posting it outside of the series bc I don’t want people to think they have to read 300k+ of backstory in order to enjoy it lmao

Honorary Plot Bunny Mentions (that may or may not make it to the wip stage eventually maybe someday)

CEO parkner au

"I think you should take over the meetings with Mr. Parker." "Harley, just because the first meeting didn't end how we hoped doesn't mean-," "If I have to spend another 2 minutes in the same room as him I'm going to fall in love and it's gonna be a disaster." "...You're kidding me."

"Pep, he told me I'm a scuzzy money-mongering jackass and I said thank you." Pepper laughs. "He didn't say that." "Well, not in those words but basically. I think you're missing the point here. I thanked him."

Meet Spidey - parkner

Spider-Man nearly passes out on Harley’s balconey and what else is he to do but help the poor guy and get him fixed up the best he can? Somehow Spidey keeps coming back and of course Harley falls for him. He’s Spider-Man. Who wouldn’t? He’s not even surprised. He is surprised when Spidey opens up to him. He’s surprised by how real he is under the mask, approachable, relatable—not that he’s ever seen him without it. No, Spidey is serious about protecting his secret identity and he respects that. He doesn’t push, he doesn’t prod, and most importantly, he doesn’t peak. And he’s happy. Sure he yearns, he pines, he daydreams, but if this is all he ever gets he’s fine with it. More would be nice but this is good too. He’s happy. Really, he is.

Binary Sunrise - coffeeshop au

The name of Peter’s shop is Binary Sunrise (a Star Wars reference to the Binary Sunset theme music). That’s literally all I have.

#mine #*me staring at all the things i want to write* dear god #am i allowed to quit my day job so i can write fanfic full time?#no??#😒#joyful-soul-collector #sswrites

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taeyongtime · 6 years ago

Text

for the one i’ve always loved

genre: childhood friends to lovers!au ⎮ fluff

group & member: NCT’s Jaehyun

word count: 5.5k

a/n: inspired after watching the movie for ‘To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before’ + please read the book series too and stamp “jaehyun channels big kavinsky energy” on your forehead

“I have never seen a dirtier pigsty than your room, Jung Jaehyun.”

The familiar soft chuckle you grew up listening to since age five echoes across the four walls and you roll your eyes at his nonchalance.

“Are you going to clear some space up for me to sit or what?”

“You can just move my clothes aside,” Jaehyun laughs as he turns back to his computer. “It’s not like you haven’t done it before whenever you come over.”

“Then I’m not coming in,” you huff, lean against the doorway with your arms crossed. “Not until you clean your room and there’s visible space for me to sit.”

“You’re quite a lot of work as usual,” he sighs, getting up from his chair and clearing the pile of dirty clothes on his bed into the hamper while reorganizing the clutter on his desk. “Happy?”

“If you had developed a readily aware sense of when to clean then we wouldn’t be having this type of conversation.”

“Hold it, I just happened to be lazy on this day of all days.”

You take a seat on his cleared bed and glance at the dimmed laptop on his desk.

“What are you doing?”

“I was watching a 19+ film before you interrupted me saying I needed to clean my room.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m kidding. I was checking my email because I haven’t checked it in a while.”

He turns around in his swivel chair. “What’s up?”

“My parents are currently traveling on a cruise ship for 2 months and didn’t think to tell me until this morning via a handwritten note taped onto the fridge.”

“Don’t laugh!” you whine at hearing his warm laughter. “It’s nothing to laugh about!”

“Let me guess, next you’re going to say something about crashing here for the next 2 months because you don’t want to be alone in that big house of yours.”

“…I hate you.”

One last chuckle and Jaehyun gets up to retrieve the sleeping bag he keeps in his closet for just an occasion, tossing the bundle at you as he teases about the injustice of sharing his space with a person he has known since youth when there was already not much room for two people when it could barely hold the things of one.

—

You and Jaehyun used to be next door neighbors before he moved out to an apartment closer downtown.

The Jungs had moved in next door three days after your eighth birthday, the dimpled boy waving at you while sitting on a cardboard box with ‘TOYS’ written in black marker on its side instantly becoming your closest friend before you could even wave your hand back. Seat partners throughout elementary school and the number one go-to whenever you wanted to hangout or simply as company, Jaehyun was always there for you when you needed him and it couldn’t come as a bigger surprise when he told you of his move out the day he turned eighteen. Used to being able to hop over in a matter of five minutes tops for ten straight years, you had sulked for a good week before talking to him again, getting hold of his new address once he settled in and immediately working out the fastest navigational route to his new place from yours for an impromptu housewarming party.

“Where are your parents headed this time?”

“Australia and New Zealand,” you answer, wiggling into the sleeping bag and turning to face his bed rather than the bookshelf on the wall. “They said it’s quite nice there and they have friends to catch up with anyway. Then they’re going a bit further up to spend a week in Indonesia and two days in Thailand before coming back here.”

Jaehyun’s nose scrunches while he pauses to take in the information and a sneeze follows.

“So… So tell me what made them think it was okay to leave you behind all by yourself?”

You shrug. “I don’t know. They think it’s fine since I’m an adult now but I can barely do anything when everything’s been done for me. Chores? Cooking my own meals? I already have a hard time deciding what to wear some days, how am I supposed to cook, clean, and manage my life when I’m practically no different from that of a baby?”

“Then it’s time to learn.” The bed creaks from the weight lifted off its frame and the light goes out, leaving you wide-eyed in the pitch black that was Jaehyun’s bedroom as he shuffles back to the warmth that was his covers.

“You’ll be fine.”

“Really? What if I end up burning the house down trying to microwave popcorn at 2am?”

“You’ll be fine,” he insists. “I’ll be your chaperone in the kitchen to make sure you don’t set off the fire alarm and wake my parents next door.”

“You’ll come over, then?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Smiling into the covers of the sleeping bag, you mumble “good night” and he does the same, silence drawing the curtains to a close as sleep overtakes your remaining perception of consciousness.

—

You return home early next morning, but not before Jaehyun made breakfast when he woke at 9:30 and you 10am. Stomach content and brain alert after eight hours of deep sleep, you unlock the door with a cheery hum and take in the large empty space that was the living room and the open kitchen, the set of stairs leading up to the second floor only increasing the dread of being by yourself with so much emptiness around. Not only were your parents away on their trip, but it didn’t even seem like the housekeeper was here—that much your parents still allowed you on what they called “the journey towards independence” by allowing the housekeeper to still come in to clean. You didn’t hear the sweeping of the broom in the dining area or even the harsh vacuum for the carpet upstairs, and while she mostly kept to herself while she worked, there was still an occasional check-in whenever she came in during the afternoon to tidy up. A part of your daily routine was clearly missing today as you close the door and head upstairs to change into a set of comfortable clothes rather than the top and bottom you had gone out in.

“Where’s my pen?”

You dig around the container of pens on your desk and find the one you’re looking for, the tip still smeared in ink from yesterday’s leakage. Pen ready, you open the first drawer and reach all the way towards the back, taking out the round pink box nestled behind volumes of old schoolbooks and popping off the lid to reveal four envelopes within—three sky blue and one a dusty rose color. Lifting the flap to reach at the letter inside each one, you unfold the creased papers and scan over each one, deeming them fine as they are until you reach the letter from the pink envelope. Bringing the pen close to the next space on the line, you start writing as you see fit, ink slightly smudging the edge of your pinky as your hand travels down the page.

“And… done.”

Clicking the pen to retract the tip, you note your spot in the letter and refold the worn crease marks from constant instances of unfolding and refolding. It would probably be best if you transferred everything to a fresh sheet for easier reading, but there was always more to add for this specific letter. There was a reason why this letter was in a separate color than the three sky blue envelopes, its recipient and intention on a whole different level than the other three.

Back in the box your letters go and you return them to their usual hiding place, closing the drawer shut and making your way to bed, wrapping your body up in the warm covers as you close your eyes into a light sleep. Writing a letter is truly something special to retain in this era of technology and everything fast-paced, the notion of snail mail holding a quaint inkling of fondness in your heart. Fondness of the writer at the thought of the sealed envelope making its way towards the intended recipient in due time and the surprise of the recipient at receiving a heartfelt message in the mailbox without prior notice.

But it’s not like you will ever send all the letters you’ve written. Especially not when the pink envelope contained a love letter of all things.

—

Jaehyun, as previously promised, comes over at six in the evening after dinner with his parents to oversee your first attempt at cooking a meal for yourself and nearly falls to the floor at the scope of the mess that was your cooking skills.

“What the hell happened here?”

“I told you, I can’t cook!” you yell, jumping back at the drops of oil bouncing out of the pan. “Can you taste the spaghetti and see if it’s cooked? I don’t know what’s the right texture to be labeled as ‘chewy but not too firm’.”

“… Stand aside.”

“I have to do this myself, Jaehyun. Just… I don’t know, walk me through it.”

Fifteen minutes later you manage to produce a plate of spaghetti that didn’t look like pig slop and didn’t taste that bad either, but definitely not as good as it could’ve been as you bite down on a strand of what seemed to be still slightly undercooked noodle.

“Passing for a first timer,” your best friend comments. “But spaghetti is one of the easiest dishes to make, so…”

“Okay, we get it, Master Chef, sit your ass down already.”

“I deserve an ice cream right?” he begins, already opening the freezer while you continue eating your dinner. “After saving your kitchen from being burnt down?”

You place the tomato-stained plate and fork into the sink after you finished eating.

“Only if you wash the dishes first.”

“Deal.”

He ends up taking two ice cream bars rather than just the one he was promised, irking you to no end as you slap his hand off the refrigerator the moment it touches the space on the bottom to pull it open.

“You’re about to clear out my entire fridge, you pig.”

“Ouch. So mean.”

Edging him out of the kitchen to wash the dishes yourself, you jump onto the couch after putting them in the dish rack to dry and stare up at the ceiling, not knowing how you were going to survive on your own for the next two months.

“The semester starts tomorrow,” Jaehyun begins. “Nervous?”

“Actually, no,” you tell him truthfully. “Surprising, I know.”

“It’s good that you aren’t nervous. New year, new you.”

A playful flick at his shoulder for the attempt to lighten the mood and he gets up, brushing at his jeans.

“I’d better go. It’s late and I have an early start tomorrow.”

“You can always stay over at your parents’ place, you know. That’s your home too.”

Jaehyun shrugs. “Yeah, but my backpack and stuff is back at my apartment.

“Can I use your bathroom before I go, though?”

“Use the one upstairs,” you tell him as he makes his way towards the bathroom by the kitchen. “The sink in that one’s kinda weird.”

“Will do.”

—

“Hey, you’re Y/N right?”

You lift your head up, having just barely set foot out of the lecture hall for 10am biology at the sight of the boy standing before you, lips pursed and arms crossed. He didn’t look too happy, and you sure hope you hadn’t done anything wrong when you nod and ask what business he had with you so early in the day.

“I’m Doyoung. We had an Intro to Statistics class together last semester.”

“Yeah, I remember,” you nod again. “You’d always sit in the same row as me.”

“Can you explain what you mean by ‘bigheaded prick’ in this letter?”

He holds up a blue envelope and your blood practically runs cold at the sight of the yellow happy face sticker on the seal, edge curled upwards from the envelope being opened to access the letter inside.

“How… How did you get that?”

“Found it in between my calculus homework,” Doyoung says in a clipped tone. “Didn’t know I had my very own anti-fan until now.”

You swallow at the memory of angry scribbles from last semester’s statistics class, complaining on paper about how Doyoung always asked so many questions during discussion and extending class time past the designated time slot because he always had something else needing an answer right after the first question was answered by the TA. How he was smart but needed an ego check, a know-it-all who couldn’t see past the raised nose bridge that was always cast down upon others… not good. Not good at all.

“I’m really sorry I said those things about you,” you apologize with a low bow. “I really… didn’t mean it.”

“I’m not sure you’re sincere about the apology at all.”

Your head dips even lower until you can feel the hunch in your back.

“I’m sorry, I really am.”

Murmurs of curiosity begin to buzz around your hunched figure, Doyoung luckily having the decency to forgive you quickly before a crowd began to gather.

“Yeah, fine, you’re forgiven.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m going to keep this, by the way.”

You recoil in surprise and he nods in the affirmative. “So I’ll know what people are talking about when they start talking behind my back.”

“Doyoung, can I please get my letter back?” you ask desperately. “It’s… private.”

“Not anymore.” He tucks the blue envelope into his backpack and shoots you a gummy smile.

“See ya.”

You wave your hand weakly and sigh, fear slowly rolling in when you realize that if one of your letters had already gotten to its recipient, the other blue envelopes probably would be in the hands of their readers also.

“Oh no,” you gasp, pulling at your hair. “Not… Not the pink one too?”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Spooked at the sudden question, you whip your head around and nearly collide into Jaehyun; he extends a hand for you to help steady yourself from falling.

“Something wrong?”

“I…” You open and close your mouth, not knowing how to best phrase the situation. “Uh… did you…. You remember that one time you came over to my house?”

“I’ve been over to your house so many times,” he laughs. “Which time?”

“Be…Before the semester started,” you blurt out. “Do… Do you remember seeing a, uh, pink box? When you were over?”

“Nope.”

His answer only further sinks the stone in your churning stomach and you shake your head, hands pressed against your temples.

“This is bad.”

Jaehyun frowns. “What’s up?”

“N-Nothing. I… I gotta go.” You hurriedly wave and leave without another word, feet frantically taking you away as your brain races to backtrack when you’d last seen the box of letters. One blue envelope was already out, and there was no call for where the other letters would be.

Hell, there was even a chance that he could’ve seen the pink one but was just keeping quiet for your sake.

—

News of the second letter came in the worst way possible, the jolly recipient of the second blue envelope broadcasting his encounter with the letter over the university’s radio station for all to hear late in the night. While gratefully given anonymity on the DJ’s behalf, his consistent rambling on your notation of his friendliness and bright personality on paper was enough to keep you from storming out to the radio station yourself to tell him to shut the hell up, not daring to leave the library when you still had to finish the second half of a 5-page essay due by 9am tomorrow. Plugging in your earbuds, you shift your focus back to your laptop and tune out the radio, which luckily switches to a new ballad song of one of the currently popular artists and not more talk about any handwritten letters.

It is nearly 2am before you finally submit the assignment, and on your way out of the library you bump into none other than Johnny Seo himself, the man in question who ran the radio station with an entire five minutes today on receiving a lovely handwritten letter. Unsure if he knew who you were, you quickly turn tail to avoid making conversation, but the exclamation for you to wait stopped you dead in your tracks.

“Sorry,” he apologizes when you turn around to face him. “I got the wrong person.”

“N-No problem.”

Silently whispering thanks to the heavens for letting you slide by, your triumph is short-lived at the sound of footsteps from behind, the frown on Johnny’s face easing into a slow smile as he shakes his head knowingly at having missed the obvious.

“You’re Jaehyun’s friend. We met a while ago, yeah?”

“Well, Jaehyun’s very popular across campus, so I’m not surprised if you don’t remem—”

“And you wrote this.” He holds up the blue envelope. “It’s addressed to me.”

You debate denying but find no point in doing so when he had already indirectly exposed your letter fiasco to the entire student body.

“Yeah, I wrote it.”

“It’s a very nice letter.” He takes out the slip of paper tucked inside and scans the contents. “I didn’t know I had such a positive presence in your life.”

A flush of red creeps onto your cheeks and you duck your head down, not knowing how to respond.

“Well… you’re always so encouraging to your radio listeners and just… an overall cool person.”

“May I keep this? This is the first fan letter I’ve ever received.”

“I… I’d rather…”

The eager look on his face too much to disagree upon, you find yourself nodding ever so slowly while sighing internally at having already agreed to give away two of your prized letters.

“Okay. You can keep it.”

“Great! I’ll walk you home, if it’s fine with you?”

“Y-You don’t have to.”

“Please.” He offers an arm. “I insist.”

Once at your front door, you receive quite the pleasant surprise when Jaehyun’s mouth drops at seeing you and Johnny together.

“Hello.”

“Your best friend is cute,” Johnny smiles, wiggling his fingers to a wave before pushing you towards Jaehyun. “Take good care of her.”

“Will do,” Jaehyun laughs, beckoning for your house keys and opening the door to let you in first. “Later, Johnny.”

“Why are you here?” you ask your best friend curiously.

“Thought to ask you to go get food with me but then you didn’t show up until now.”

“How long were you waiting?”

“Uh…. Maybe four hours?”

Your eyes widen at the thought of Jaehyun waiting four hours outside your doorstep and punch him on the shoulder.

“Why didn’t you message me earlier?”

“I did,” he points out. “But you probably were too busy to reply.”

“God, I’m… I’m so sorry.” You usher him inside and drop your things down. “I was… preoccupied.”

He nods in understanding and sits down on the couch.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Um… not really.” Even though he was your best friend, it wasn’t in your best interest to inform him about your missing letters. The slips of papers were your most prized possessions, hidden feelings recorded down in ink that you didn’t have the courage to reveal in person. Not that they were all love-related, with Doyoung’s being a vent about the difficulties of his character and Johnny’s an admiration of his bright personality and wanting to become his friend, but there did remain two letters harboring romantic interest—one blue one for a tiny crush and the pink one that could change everything if not handled the way you had intended for things to go.

“I just want you to know that I’m here for you,” he says with a smile. “You can tell me anything, you know.”

“I…” A heavy sigh falls through your lips. “Okay. Here’s what happened.”

❀

“Hey, hey, hey.”

“Oh, hi Johnny.”

An enthusiastic hand claps your back. “So I heard there’s still one more blue letter circulating around.”

You roll your eyes. “Did Jaehyun tell you?”

“A little bird tweeted it out,” he grins. “His name could be Jung Jaehyun, I’m not sure.

“Need help finding the third one? I can send out word through the radio.”

“That is the last thing I need right now, Johnny.”

He shrugs. “Just a thought.”

“I don’t even know how they got out in the first place,” you fret. “I keep them closely hidden at home, there’s simply no way—”

“Well, I got mine in Physics. Jaehyun was looking through my notes and noticed there was a blue envelope slipped inside between the pages.”

“Jaehyun found it?”

“Yeah.” He suddenly reaches into his back pocket and stares at his buzzing phone.

“Sorry, I have to go. See you around?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Good luck with the last one.”

“There’s actually one more, but…”

Your words trail off as Johnny takes his leave, the gears in your brain slowly trying to piece together Jaehyun’s role in the situation of your missing letters.

“Did Doyoung find his through Jae, too?”

Before you can look through your phone for Doyoung’s number, a quiet cough sounds from behind and you turn around to face the recipient of your final blue enveloped letter.

“Are you the one who wrote this letter?”

—

The third letter was one that you put quite an amount of time into, but you didn’t know why you were so nervous as your fingers tightened along the edges of the books you were carrying in your arms. Not that your feelings were anything more than a tiny crush upon a guy who had been kind enough to direct you to an 8am class last semester when you didn’t know where to find the building it was located in.

Taeyong was only being nice then, but it didn't stop you from casting side glances at him when you found out he was in the same major and shared most of your classes with you.

“I…” You blubber. “I, uh… well…”

“Oh, hey, Taeyong.”

An arm slinks around your shoulder and you gulp as you greet your best friend, nudging at his side and casting glares at the blue envelope in Taeyong’s hand. Hopefully he got the hint that you needed to get away from Taeyong so you didn’t need to address the topic of the letter.

“Jaehyun, I need to go study,” you blurt out, your brain working overdrive to churn out a reasonable excuse of leave. “We made plans to go to the library together, remember?”

“Right,” he chimes after, glancing at the blue letter in Taeyong’s hand. “Catch you later, Taeyong?”

“Um, I was hoping to ask Y/N about—”

“Gotta go, bye Taeyong!”

You pull Jaehyun after you and make it to the library entrance before stopping and turning around to face him.

“Thank goodness you showed up in time,” you wheeze, adjusting your grip on your books as you take much-needed breaths of air. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have known what to say about the letter.”

“Actually, I was specifically looking for you,” Jaehyun says with a shrug. “It wasn’t a coincidence.”

“Oh, okay. What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, about the letters…”

You hear an exclamation of your name just as Jaehyun opens his mouth to speak and drop your books onto the ground at the sight of Doyoung hurrying over towards you and Jaehyun.

“Are you busy?” he demands.

“No…”

“Then follow me, this is important.”

You glance at Jaehyun and he gestures for you to go.

“I’ll wait for you at the biology hall.”

“Yeah, sure.”

It turns out that the important thing Doyoung had dragged you aside for was a review session for his current Statistics class, one that you had a different professor for. Apparently the review slides weren’t going to be posted online and he had entered the classroom fifteen minutes late, thus the proposal for you to transcribe the first half of the slides onto paper while he paid attention to the TA reviewing the second half of the powerpoint for the sake of the fifteen minutes he’d lost getting there after the start time and the five minutes it had taken to pick you up. Maximizing efficiency by utilizing all available resources, he had said.

“I’m missing a few points,” you tell him as students begin to file out of the classroom after the two-hour session comes to an end. “This is how much I managed to get down though.”

He skims over your notes and nods.

“It’s good enough. The TA said this upcoming exam is focusing more on the newer material anyway.”

“Then why did you drag me here when I was in the middle of something with Jaehyun?”

“You owe me from the letter.”

“I remember receiving forgiveness for calling you a prick,” you scowl. “What the hell?”

“Now you’re forgiven,” he corrects you. “Thanks for coming here on such short notice.”

“… I don’t regret what I wrote in your letter.”

It was already dark out by the time you leave, hurrying over to where Jaehyun had said he’d be waiting. You didn't think it would take this long and had forgotten to text him to not wait for you during the whirlwind that was statistical facts and definitions demanding for your attention.

“You made it.” The figure sitting on the bench outside the biology lecture hall stands up and smiles in relief. “I was afraid you’d forgotten.”

“No, it…. it ran longer than I expected. Sorry for not letting you know ahead of time.”

Jaehyun shakes his head. “I would’ve waited for you to show up regardless.”

“Dinner’s on me for having you wait,” you offer. “Cool?”

“Oh, definitely.”

—

Jaehyun never brought up the topic of the letters after you’d grabbed dinner that night, and you receive the surprise of your life when Taeyong approaches your table in the library one Friday afternoon before your 3pm chemistry lecture.

“May I sit?”

“Y-Y-Yes.” You hurriedly move your things to make space and he smiles as he sits down.

“Sorry it’s so… messy.”

“About the letter addressed to me…” he begins without missing a beat.

You brace yourself for his reply, closing your eyes shut so you didn’t have to look at him. The imagery of him rejecting you in the library and calling you a creep for staring at him in class was so embarrassing to even think about that—

“I think you’re a very nice person, Y/N.”

One eye slightly opens and the other gradually follows.

“Me? Nice?”

Taeyong nods and smiles. “I didn’t know we had so many classes together either. If I had known, we could’ve been study buddies so I wouldn’t need to study all by myself last year.”

A nervous laugh escapes from your lips and you clap your hands around your mouth, ducking to avoid the stares and curious turns of heads from other tables.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I don’t know if I share the same feelings, but your letter still means a lot to me.”

“I understand,” you whisper back, genuinely grateful that this hadn’t gone as badly as predicted. “Um, so this means you don’t mind exchanging numbers so we can study together right? You’re in like, three of my classes this semester.”

Warm chuckles bubble up in your corner and he inputs his contact information into your phone, dialing his own number from your device so he had a record of your phone number as well.

“It’s no problem at all.”

You grab your phone back after he’s finished and nod in thanks.

“Actually,” he breaks in. “I do have one more thing to give you.”

“Oh?”

A pink envelope is placed on the middle of your notes and your eyes widen.

“I won’t say who I got it from,” Taeyong says slowly. “I was only told to deliver this.”

“But.. you didn’t…”

He leaves without another word and you hesitantly peel the flap of the envelope open, heart caught in your throat as you take out the letter inside and read the only line written on the center of the paper.

❀

Maybe deep down you’d already known it would be him.

The minutes tick by as you sit outside of the library, waiting for him to show up while the campus slowly empties out with the completion of classes and anticipation for the weekend. The numbers of people walking by dwindle down and you sit up when you spot the lone figure heading your way when most passerby walked the opposite direction.

“Sorry,” Jaehyun apologizes, sweat glistening at his forehead as he offers a sheepish smile. “I didn’t know my meeting would run this late.”

“It’s fine.” You get up from the bench and smile. “I know you would’ve done the same for me.”

His signature dimple makes its way onto his face and you take out the pink envelope Taeyong had given to you earlier.

“So.”

“So,” he echoes. “What’s with the letter?”

“Where’s the original one? The one I had in here written about you?”

Feigned innocence twinkles in his eyes as he shuffles his feet, avoiding eye contact.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Come on, I can recognize your handwriting like my own. I know you have it with you somewhere.”

He reaches into his backpack, pulling out a sheet of folded paper that was creased all around the edges.

“I was debating framing this up so I can stare at it first thing when I wake up in the morning.”

“Gross.”

“Can’t be more gross than the fact that you never told me in all the years we’ve known each other that you love me.”

Embarrassment rolling off your shoulders in waves, you start to walk and a second set of footsteps follow suit.

“Hey, it’s true that you love me, right?”

“I don’t know,” you dismiss. “It’s cold out and I’d like to get home before it gets dark out and the wind picks up.”

The lax pace from behind breaks into a run and you stop in your tracks when a pair of hands grab your wrists together, sneaking around your waist to pull you into a hug.

“Let me go, Jaehyun.”

“Did you think I’ll say no when I’ve pretty much felt the same about you all this time?”

The gentle look in his eyes softens even more and he takes off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders.

“Here, it’s getting a bit cold.”

“Well,” you huff indignantly, pressing down the feeling of bliss fluttering in your stomach. “If you love me too, then why did you send out my other letters? Those were private, you know.”

“I thought… they looked ready to be sent, so I just dropped them off anyway. They were all signed off and everything.”

He winces at the impending groan from your end and moves his arm up, resting his hand on your shoulder in apology.

“Are you… mad at me for doing it?”

“It’s already been done, so there’s nothing more I can do about it,” you sigh. “But at least they all know how I feel and I can get some form of closure with my feelings.”

“Then…” His eyes scan your face, nervous as he bites his lips. “Then this also means you accept my apology… right?”

You eye him with a knowing glance and slowly break out the smile you’d been suppressing, bubbles of laughter echoing in the darkened night sky.

“What’s so funny?” he frowns.

“The look of fear on your face,” you giggle, “Priceless!”

Realizing you’d pulled a fast one on him, he pulls the jacket off your shoulders and you gasp in the cold of the night, the thin green hoodie on your back not nearly providing enough warmth as Jaehyun’s puffed one.

“Give it back, I’m cold!”

“Nope.”

“I’m cold!” you shriek, shoulders hunched at the wind nipping behind your exposed neck. “Give it back or I’m breaking up with you!”

“You’re breaking up with me already?” He offers his jacket just out of reach for your arm span. “Right when I was going to re-offer my jacket?”

“You never even answered me,” you refute as you cross your arms to retain whatever body heat that hasn’t escaped yet. “So I don’t know, maybe you’re breaking up with me, not the other way around.”

The padded layer re-drapes itself onto your shoulders and you hurriedly fit your arms inside the sleeves.

“What’s your final answer, Jung Jaehyun?”

“I’ve already read your letter and told you I’m not going to say no, what more do you want?”

Displeased at the lack of clarity, you stuff your hands into the jacket pockets and start to walk, humming a quiet tune that only increases in volume as another hand slips into the right pocket to intertwine its fingers with your own.

“Your hand is warm,” you mumble without looking at him. “Aren’t you cold without your jacket?”

“No,” he answers, tightening his hold on your hand while matching his pace with yours. “I’m warm just by being with you.”

#nct #jaehyun #nct scenarios #jaehyun scenarios #nct fanfic #nct fluff #tatbilb!au #its been too long since i last wrote my mojo is kinda off i feel :/

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fandomerms · 5 years ago

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summer deep cleaning/reorganizing: a guide

1. First, so you’re not bored out of your mind, entertain yourself while cleaning! Some ideas:

playing music

listening to a podcast

watching a tv show

talking to family

2. Look at your room. I mean, really look at it and ask yourself a few questions:

What parts of your room consistently get messy and stay messy?

What do you like about your room?

What do you want to enhance?

Do you have any blank space on your wall which you want to fill up?

What do you want people to learn about you by your room?

3. Now you’re ready to do what we all dread: work. Get those disinfectant wipes, locate your vacuum or get that rag and start cleaning! How I clean:

I start with what’s on the ground and put the items away so I feel less overwhelmed.

Then, I work my way around my room. I’ll start in one corner of my room, clean (wipe down surfaces and throwing away any items), then move on. This is a good tactic because when cleaning things such as shelves or your desk, you can dump all of the objects that were on them onto the ground or to another corner of your room, then put them back. Be sure to clean desks, drawers, dressers, night stands, under your bed, and storage units.

But wait! Before you put everything back, ask yourself if you need each item. If you feel any doubt about the usefullness, throw it away. Group together objects you want to organize differently and put them away like so. If you don’t have the proper container to do so, purchase them after you clean your whole room.

Make your bed. I hate making my bed, but a clean bed makes a big difference in how clean and organized your room looks.

Clean your closet now! Start by working shelf by shelf, methodically wiping it down, then looking at your clothes. Ask yourself if you need that particular article of clothing. If not, throw it into a pile residing on your floor. Once done, be sure to sort that pile of clothing into items you can donate, have to throw away, or can repurpose/ use for scrap fabric. Throw away any broken hangers. If you really want to, you can go buy hangers that are all the same color so your closet looks uniform. It’ll make a big difference if you’re into that.

Once you’re done CLEANING your closet, now it’s time to REORGANIZE it (if needed). Devise a system of storing your clothes. I dedicate one shelf to my athletic gear, another to my pajamas, etc. Also ask yourself if you need to purchase a box for your socks/underwear/undergarments. A box is a tidy way to contain everyday articles of clothing.

Please be sure to wipe down the doornobs, handles, lightswitches etc. If you don’t want to do this, purchase a blacklight to see how filthy the aforementioned objects are, then wipe them down.

Once i’m done cleaning everything, I vacuum my floor and ceiling to get rid of any cobwebs.

Now, reorganizing! Remember those questions you asked yourself in step 2? Revisit your answers to them and purchase/change your room accordingly. Some ways to customize your room is by a cute and useful lamp, posters, your artwork, fairy lights, books/ a bookshelf, or photos.

Remember how you asked yourself if you needed any boxes to better organize your things? Now is the time to buy the boxes! Also, ask yourself if you need a box to store your electronics, wallet, portable charger (highly recommend investing in a quality one- these are pricy, but it’s definitely worth it). Boxes are a great way to store items so it’s contained neatly.

This is how I like to deep clean my room, and I feel so much better after I do so. I did not include everything that I do and what you can do because otherwise this post would become too long. Just think about how your room can serve you. I hope this guide was helpful!

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bazypitchandsimonsnow · 6 years ago

Text

Watford Cove

Chapter 10: everything back and more

Rating: T

Genre: Fluff/angst

Word count: 2580

Chapter: 10/13 [All chapters]

Summary: Simon and Baz have some time before exams start. They decide to go on a date before the storm begins.

Read on AO3

AN: Okay okay omg two amazing people made fan art of this fic and I'm so happy and grateful. There's this fantastic piece of my punk Baz by @neck-mole and this wonderful art of my pastel and punk beauties by @jessethejoyful. I love them so much and I'm still freaking out about it so thank you to those two again. Now onto the chapter. It's more fluff cause my boys need it tbh. Also I posted this to the wrong blog for like 30 seconds because I’m an idiot sorry!

Tagging: @wayward-son-61 @jeansjeansjeansjeans

———————————————-

“You and your boyfriend are gross.”

I plant myself on the picnic table with a thunk, giving Niall a curious look. “And good afternoon to you too, mate.”

“I’m serious,” he says, arms crossed. “You two are disgusting.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Huh, didn’t peg you for a homophobe, Niall.”

Niall rolls his eyes and shoves my leg. “Fuck off, you know that’s not what I mean. You two are snogging everywhere all the time. Didn’t you just get caught in the gym closet yesterday?

That’s unfortunately true. We did get caught, with Simon’s legs around my waist and my hand up his shirt. Coach Mac was certainly not amused. He made us reorganize said closet as punishment. It was totally worth it though.

After our talk last week, I assumed Simon and I wouldn't be around each other as much, no longer afraid that our relationship would end abruptly. But it’s the exact opposite. We sneak off between classes, after school if I’m not with Bunce, at night if we both can’t sleep. He’d be here right now hanging with my friends if he didn’t have a makeup chem lab to do with Bunce. I don’t know exactly why. Maybe it’s something about our promises, the trust we gave each other. Confessing our fears and understanding them.

Or maybe we’re horny teenagers who like to snog and cuddle. That would also make sense.

“He’s my first boyfriend, give me a break.” I snatch Dev’s cigarette carton and take a stick out for myself. “And I might not see him again for a year if exams go badly.”

“We get it, man,” Dev says. “And we’re happy for you. But you’re also snogging 24/7 and it’s gross.”

I take a deep drag and grin. “Yup.”

Niall sighs and leans back, his stupid aviators slipping down his face. (He thinks they’re cool. And I hate that he’s right.) “Whatever, fine. Be gross. But I have some questions for you.” He points his cigarette at me very dramatically.

“Okay...”

“One: if you go to Switzerland, how the hell are we going to contact you?”

“Simon said he’d mail me. You know, snail mail. You two can do that as well.”

“Good. Two: Are you going to come home for the holidays?”

“Probably not. Only if I behave maybe.”

“That sucks. And three: can I have your bike while you’re gone?”

I blow smoke in his face. He coughs, Dev laughs loudly. “No, you git. My beloved motorcycle will be stored in Simon’s garage so my father can’t dispose of it while I’m away.”

Niall groans pathetically. “That’s not fair. I’ve wanted that thing for ages and now I don’t even get it if you’re gone? Rude.”

“You’ll crash it.”

“Will not.”

“Will to. Simon is scared to ride it without me, so I know he’ll just leave it alone. Unlike you.”

Niall pouts, crossing his arms. “You and your stupid responsible boyfriend.” He lowers his sunglasses and gives me a curious look. “Have you two horny idiots even been on a proper date yet? Or are you just defiling everywhere you go?”

I open my mouth to protest, but quickly have to shut it. With all the excitement and exam cramming and sneaking around, we haven’t remembered to do something so simple as a date. That is a grave injustice. And I must correct it.

I pull out my mobile and open Simon’s contact in my phone. He’s still listed as “Pretty Moron”. I’ve refused to change it even since we’ve started dating.

Baz [12:36] Hey wanna going on a date after school? If so, meet me outside the north entrance.

Pretty Moron [12:37] ok sure this is kinda out of the blue luv

Baz [12:38] Do I need an excuse to want to go on a date with my boyfriend?

Pretty Moron [12:38] no it’s just odd and spontaneous

Pretty Moron [12:38] i like it tho

Pretty Moron [12:39] i’ll meet you then <3

Baz [12:40] See you then. Now go back to your chem lab idiot.

Simon doesn't reply, thankfully. He needs to pass his classes as well. This is perfect actually. Exams start tomorrow. Simon and I can have a good time before mentally dying. I lean back, eyes closed and smiling.

“Ugh he looks all lovesick again,” Niall groans. “Gross.”

I kick his shoulder, nearly knocking him off the bench. Dev snorts.

“Careful, Niall,” Dev says, “he’ll tease you just as much when you get a girlfriend.”

"If he gets a girlfriend,” I say flatly.

Niall punches my feet. Dev roars with laughter. Fuck, I’m going to miss these two if I leave. I wish I’d put my pride aside earlier, and given myself a better chance of staying. I only hope it will work out now.

———————————————-

Simon saunters out of the north school entrance with his typical sunshine grin. He’s wearing floral shorts, mismatched floral shirt, a rosebud bracelet, and his checkered Vans because he has no regard for fashion norms whatsoever. It's amazing. Bunce is by his side, holding her heavy textbooks. When Simon spots me, he runs up and wraps his arms around my shoulders, planting a wet kiss on my cheek.

“Hi, darling,” he purrs.

“Hello, love,” I reply hushed.

Bunce promptly ruins the mood by fake retching onto the sidewalk. I roll my eyes. Simon chuckles. “Thanks, Pen.”

“I can’t believe I agreed to help Basilton just so you two could be gross for longer.”

I shrug. “Well, I certainly do appreciate the help. Thank you, Bunce.”

“Aw,” she drawls sarcastically. “You’re going to make me actually sick up.”

Simon sticks his tongue out and holds onto me tighter. “You think he’s going to ace his exams tomorrow, Pen?”

“If he follows my brilliant teaching? Yes.”

“I’ll do my best,” I say genuinely. Because I will, no doubt. Because I have too much to lose if I don’t. Bunce notices, observant as she is, nodding with a genuinely kind expression.

“So,” Simon says, “are we off to our date now?”

I grin wolfishly, excitement brewing in my gut. “As soon as you get on my bike, yes.”

Bunce sighs, already turning on her heels. “Bye, arseholes. Don’t defile too many places, please.”

Simon shrugs. I flip her off. He swings his legs over the back of my bike and wraps his arms around my middle automatically. Two engine revs, and we’re off.

Originally, I thought about taking him to Mount Olympus. But that’s too predictable. Simon and I need more than one place to call our’s. So we don’t head north towards my neighbourhood, but west, towards the Wavering Wood.

It’s another secluded area in town, surrounded by willow trees and thick brush. Most people avoid it. But I know of somewhere perfect for us. With some brilliant manoeuvring and and careful driving by me, we end up in a small clearing by a pond. The grass is soft and flat. Willow trees give us just enough shade to be comfortable. The water sparkles in the sunlight like something out of a dream.

“Wow,” Simon gasps, “this is gorgeous.”

“Our little town is full of surprises. And,” I pull out a large plastic bag from my knapsack, “so am I.”

I bring out the plastic tablecloth first. It’s white and red checkered, like something out of the fifties. Then I take out the roast beef sandwiches and sour cherry scones. Cousin Pritchard was more than happy to give me some fresh ones for free. Simon’s eyes light up beautifully at those. I spread out my arms with flourish.

“Ta-da,” I announce.

“A picnic by the water?” Simon giggles. “Really?”

“I’m feeling romantic. Sue me.”

He quickly plops himself down cross legged on the crinkly plastic. “Hey, I’m not complaining. Especially if there’s food.” He opens the takeaway container, grinning at the roast beef. “When did you get all this? At lunch?”

I sit down too, stretching out to lounge next to him. “No, free period at the end of the day. I broke many speed limits getting all of it.”

“Baz! You’re supposed to study during free periods!”

I sigh, shaking my head. “Simon, exams start tomorrow and I’ve been studying intensely for three weeks. If I’m not ready, then neither Bunce or I are as smart as we think we are.” Simon still looks concerned. I reach out and grab his hand, running my thumb over the back of it. “I’ll be alright, love. Trust me.”

His expression finally breaks, a corner of his lip pulled up. He stretches out next to me, not letting go of my hand. “Okay.”

Simon digs into his food. I laugh at all the crumbs around his mouth. Part of me wants to kiss or lick them off, but I settle for just brushing them. Simon giggles and blushes, making my heart soar. He goes after the scones almost immediately after finishing his sandwich. Of course he inhales them like a vacuum cleaner.

“Leave some for me, Salisbury,” I grumble.

“Fine,” he groans, handing me a pastry.

“Sorry I’m not letting you eat all of the sugary treats, love. I know it’s a sacrifice.”

He glares, but the weight of it is lessened by his bulging chipmunk cheeks filled with crumbly pastry. I just keep smiling as I bite my singular scone.

Once we’re done, I end up on my back with my eyes closed, Simon half resting on my chest. He uses an index finger to slowly run over my collarbone. I trace circles in the small of his back. His strong chin digs into me slightly, but I’m fine. Really, I’m fantastic. I’ve sitting by a pond, resting in willow tree shade, all with a gorgeous boy pressed against me. This might be heaven. But I wish Simon seemed to feel the same.

“Simon,” I sigh, “stop looking at me like that.”

I can practically hear Simon frown in confusion. He knows I can’t see him, but I’m incredibly perceptive. I can feel it. “Like what?”

“Like I’m going to disappear the second you close your eyes. I’m still here, and I’m not going anywhere just yet.”

“O-Oh.” He lowers his head, putting his arms around my middle and his cheek over my heart. “Sorry.”

I sigh, petting his hair. “It’s alright, love, I understand. Everything starts tomorrow. Just...” I wrap both my arms around, trying to get him even closer. “Just don’t start letting me go until I’m actually gone.”

Simon growls slightly, like a defensive animal. He scoots up and buries his face in my shoulder. His grip on my waist tightens. I can feel his every huffy hot breath.

“I’m not letting you go ever,” he whispers harashly. “I promise.”

I chuckle, amused by his affection and determination. “I know, love. Me neither, and I’m going to fight like hell to stay. I promise.”

He starts moving around. I can’t see what he’s doing from my angle. Suddenly, Simon is lifting up my hand and putting something around it.

“Simon, what are you-”

“It’s for good luck,” he blurts. “For tomorrow.”

I lift up my wrist. It’s a rosebud bracelet like the one he's wearing. But strangely, the flowers are black instead of pink. It looks handmade. The roses are meticulously hand coloured, each flower obviously glued on one by one. I strain my neck down to kiss the top of Simon’s soft hair. He squeezes my sides

“Thank you, love,” I whisper.

Simon hums in approval. I fall back and look back out the sky. We go quiet again, and I bask in the moment. This perfect moment just before the storm really starts. With Simon against me, my fingers in his hair, him breathing softly, gripping my shirt, and everything calm around us.

For a long while I thought I wanted to burn the whole world down. But now, I think I could be content just staying here forever.

———————————————-

Watford is looming over me even more than usual. I feel like the whole building is going to lean down and fucking eat me. Students walk in without noticing me. Most look like they’ve been hit by a bus, with messy hair, baggy eyes, and piles of loose notes in hand. I try to look calm, but my hand is fiddling like mad, spinning Simon’s bracelet over and over. The smooth glide of it is comforting. I try to focus on that. Until something crashes into me so hard I nearly fall over.

“Fuck!” I wheeze.

Suddenly, a familiar freckled face pops in front of me. “Hi.”

“Bloody hell, Simon,” I breathe out harshly. “You scared me, arsehole.”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, absolutely not sorry at all. He’s wearing his rose flower crown again. He does tend to wear it when he’s excited. “You seemed really deep in thought, love.”

I sigh, running a nervous hand over my hair. “Just, this is it. Whatever I do starting now decides my fate. Ugh, Christ, that’s so over dramatic.”

“It’s fine, I understand. And don’t worry.” He reaches down to squeeze my hand, the one with the bracelet on, his matching one right next to it. “You’re going to do great.”

“You better! Or I’m going to have to deal with a very weepy Simon.”

Penelope Bunce saunters her way up to us, pushing her glasses up her nose. Simon grins and throws his arm around her shoulders. “Well, if you taught him well, then we all should be fine, right?”

“Teaching can only get you so far depending on the person.” She flashes me a smug as all hell look, and if Simon wasn’t in my way, I swear I’d kick her. But that smug smile soon becomes genuine, and to my utter surprise, she walks in front of me, stands on her toes, and ruffles my hair. What the hell?

“Good luck, Baz,” she says. “You might not want it, but I’ll give it anyway.”

Huh, not what I was expecting. But I certainly appreciate the sentiment. I nod. “Thank you.”

She nods in reply, then turns to walk into the school. Simon and I are the only ones left outside. I feel him lean against me, his arm perfectly lined up with mine.

“Good luck,” he whispers. “I don’t think you need it, but I want to say it.”

I kiss the top of his head. “Thank you, love. Good luck to you too.”

In a split second, before I can register what happens, Simon reaches up, turns my head, and kisses me. It’s insistent and passionate. He’s obviously holding nothing back, so I don’t either. I put hands on his hips and pull him against me. Simon’s arms wrap fully around my neck, pressing us together even more. If I could, I'd never let go.

But we do have to pull apart eventually, though our faces stay close. I keep my eyes closed and lean my forehead against his. He breathes heavily. The smell of cherries tickles my nose.

“Good luck,” he whispers.

“You already said that,” I reply. He smacks my head lightly.

“Shut up.”

“Nope. If I do well, you’re going to be stuck with me and my smart mouth.”

He pulls back, letting his arms fall down until we’re holding hands. “Yeah, I know. So go ace those goddamn tests.”

I start walking us towards Watford, fingers laced together, so tight and unwilling to part. “As you wish, love.”

———————————————-

AN: I know this chapter may feel like filler but I wanted it really badly. Baz needed to settle shit with his friends of course. And Simon and Baz need some normalcy through all this craziness. Like, I wanted them to have a calm moment before exams. I also felt like I needed to show them being normal. Just them go on normal dates with no snogging and being happy together. Sorta shows they could continue after this insanity and excitement, hm? Hope that got across. This is probably unnecessary but I always feel the need to explain my writing. Thank you for reading! And thank you again to the amazing fan artists! :D

Chapter title is from "War" by Sum 41

#carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #penelope bunce #dev #niall #fluff #angst #punk/pastel #mysnowbazfanfic

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